


This Feels Like Falling in Love

by commander_cullywully



Series: This Feels Like Falling in Love AU [4]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Best Friends, College AU, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Modern AU, Pining, Romance, Sexual Content, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-04-28 21:02:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 51,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5105639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commander_cullywully/pseuds/commander_cullywully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwyn Trevelyan has just transferred to Skyhold University and, much to her chagrin, has been appointed the student director of the school’s student union. As senior advisor in charge of orientation, Cullen helps Gwyn navigate her new life on campus. As the year continues, it becomes very clear that Cullen wants something more.<br/>[Later chapters will be NSFW]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Is that a last name?"

“Well, you look like absolute shit.”

“Thanks so much, brother.” Gwyn would have to take his word for it. She hadn’t so much as glanced in a mirror that day. Or even yesterday, if she was being honest with herself. She hadn’t been getting much sleep lately and it certainly didn’t help that Brennan was insistent about helping her move into her campus apartment. “Why  _are_ you helping me move again?”

“To see the good-looking guys on your campus, mostly,” he shrugged. He picked up one of her boxes and wrinkled his nose. “Seriously, you need to do something with your hair. I want you to get laid at least once this year.” She rolled her eyes as he walked to the car, but absently ran her fingers through her brown locks. It didn’t look that bad…did it? On the way to the car, she caught a glimpse of herself in the side view mirror.

 He wasn’t completely wrong. Her hair  _did_ look a bit unruly—gentle waves had become frizzy and wild and her blue eyes looked heavy with sleep. She probably should have attempted to brush her hair after her shower last night or at least tried to put some makeup on. Sighing, she pulled her hair into a side braid.

“Did you just wake up before I got here?” Brennan snorted, loading another box of hers.

“Baby brother, I’ve just slept in a motel room filled with all my shit for full week. Of course I slept like an angel.” She helped him load another box. Staying at the Gnawed Noble Inn wouldn’t have been her first choice, but she couldn’t exactly stay in the same house as her mother. Not after that last conversation she had had with her.

“Stop with that baby brother nonsense.”

“Two minutes is two minutes,” Gwyn grinned, swinging open the car door. “C’mon. We’re going to be late.”                

University of Skyhold hadn’t been Gwyn’s first choice in college. Ostwick University had been the frontrunner her entire life—it was where her father went to college, where her older sister had attended, and it had the one of the best astronomy programs she had ever seen. Unfortunately, it was also had one of the highest tuitions in all of Thedas and that left Gwyn looking elsewhere for her degree.

“So, why  _are_ you transferring to Skyhold?” Brennan asked, raising his brow in curiosity. Gwyn glanced out the window, watching as they passed one sorority house after another.

“It’s got a decent astronomy program,” she mumbled. Brennan let out a low whistle until Gwyn finally cast a furtive look in his direction.  _To get away from mom. To go to a school I can afford._ “You know why.”

“Did you even  _ask_ father to change—”

“Brennan,” she groaned. This wasn’t a conversation she was willing to have. “Can we not do this today? It’s hard enough knowing you’re not staying in town.” He took one hand off the steering wheel to squeeze her shoulder.

“You know I flock where the men look best,” he winked, turning a corner and parking the car.

“Good thing I’ve got you here,” she half-joked. Brennan was the type of guy everyone seemed drawn to. He was the sociable twin—the one that got invited to the parties and the one that men and women would ask to be introduced to. It wasn’t that Gwyn was unlikable—it was that she struggled with putting herself out there. She was the wallflower of the Trevelyan family, the black sheep.

Brennan took the keys from the ignition, his teeth tugging at his bottom lip.

“What?” Gwyn asked flatly.

“Will you promise me something?” Gwyn rolled her eyes.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to find your own dates from now on, Bren.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Okay, okay.” Brennan pursed his lips, mulling over the idea in his head. “Go on,” Gwyn urged.

 “I need you to promise that you’ll do more things for yourself here.”

“What does that even mean?”

 “Just…spend more time on yourself for once.” His voice was soft, his eyes looking everywhere but at her. Tight-lipped, he tapped nervously on the steering wheel. “Let’s get you moved in.” He was already getting out of the car and unloading boxes when Gwyn opened the door.

Brennan always did know her better than anyone else, better than she knew herself. He was the one person she could always count on, without question. He’d always joked that they had, what he liked to call, “twin sense.”  _I know you like the back of my hand, sister_. He said it often—with love, with anger, and in jest. She stood, watching him unload box after box and feeling grateful that someone in her family supported her in some small way.

“So, you really mean that you won’t find me a date here?” Brennan winked as he slammed a door shut. Gwyn rolled her eyes, lifting two boxes in her arms.

“Don’t push your luck, Bren.”

* * *

When Cullen first saw her walk in with Cassandra, everything around him seemed muffled. Dorian was still in his ear about planning for the welcome dinner, but all he could see was the woman who’d walked in the door carrying an unwieldy number of notebooks and folders. She was slightly on the short side with her hair pulled back into a thick, dark ponytail with wisps that seemed to frame her face perfectly. Josephine pulled her aside immediately, talking emphatically as the girl smiled and in the light, Cullen could see a sweep of freckles across her cheeks. He had seen her before—yesterday when people were moving back in.

Yeah, that was it. Dorian and he were getting ready to leave to meet Leliana and Josephine for an early lunch when he saw her walking down the hall carrying two boxes stacked haphazardly in her arms. Her hair had been pulled back in a side braid then, her slightly too-long bangs fell in front of her eyes as she struggled with the door knob across from his room.

“Andraste’s fucking….” She grumbled, balancing the boxes on her knee as she slammed into the door. “Dammit.” Cullen tried to hide his smile. He’d never seen her on campus before—she couldn’t have been a freshman or sophomore to room in this dormitory. She was cute though, or at least the way she cursed under her breath was—he had to admit that.

“Can I give you some help with that?” He laughed, taking a step towards her. She didn’t look at him—not at first. If she had, he would have seen the heat rising in her cheeks. Of course someone would hear her ranting and raving in the hallway at a new university.

“S-sure,” she handed off the boxes and fumbled with her dorm room key. Pieces of hair had escaped from the braid near the back of her neck. Her smile was nice—the way her lips curled upward and how the blue of her eyes seemed to soften when she looked up at him. “My brother was supposed to be helping me, but I don’t quite know where he’s run off to.” She looked back at him as she unlocked her door. Cullen looked down the hall to see Dorian grinning and talking with a tall man carrying two plastic tubs. The man had an undercut with tousled brown hair that matched the girl in front of him. He had the same sharp jawline and, if Cullen had to guess, the same blue eyes.

“Does he look a bit like you?” Cullen asked, looking back at her. The girl took one of the boxes from his arms and pushed it into her room. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she frowned.

“Is he talking to a guy?” She exhaled slowly before glancing back at him. She opened her eyes, the blue visible behind her small fingers. 

“My roommate, actually.”

 “Damn it,” she groaned as he brought in her second box. A sympathetic smile spread across her face. “I’m sorry.”

 “No problem,” Cullen smiled. She tucked her hair behind her ears, her eyes glancing away from him. He found himself reaching for the back of his neck when she finally met his gaze and grinned. “I should….I should probably go.” 

 “Right. Let me just—” She moved past him, her shoulder brushing against his chest. “Brennan Trevelyan, are you helping me move into my dorm or flirting with handsome men?” She flashed a small grin towards Cullen. “There.”

 “Thanks.” Cullen nodded, offering a small smile as he shuffled past her. 

 "Thank you for helping me, by the way!” She fidgeted with her hands, her fingers knotting together in a way that Cullen found endearing.

“Anything for a neighbor,” he said, casting another glance at her. She was grinning in a way that made Cullen want to look at her longer. More, even.

“You live on this floor?” The words came out too fast for Gwyn’s taste.

“Right across the hall,” Cullen motioned. He could see the girl’s brother walking towards them. “It was nice meeting you.” He added, giving a small wave before returning to Dorian.

“Likewise. See you around, neighbor.” Cullen didn’t hear the hiss of embarrassment that escaped her lips as he walked down the hall.

“So, how’s our new neighbor look?” Dorian grinned when Cullen finally caught up.

“Don’t start,” Cullen groaned.

“Okay, alright. All I’m saying is that if she looked as nice as her brother did—” Cullen shot him a look. “Fine. We’d better get going anyway. Leliana will have our heads on a platter if we’re late.”

He hadn’t seen her the rest of the day. Now there she was—standing in this empty classroom with her eyes focused right on him.

“You aren’t even listening to me. Did you even hear a word of what I said?” Dorian groaned. Cullen was lulled back to reality.

“Right. The welcome party. I—no. Forgive me. You were saying?” He shook his head, hoping his embarrassment wasn’t obvious.

“Is that the Trevelyan girl? Our neighbor?” Dorian let out a slow whistle. “She seems charming. Too bad she didn’t bring her brother.”

“Dorian,” Cullen hissed as the girl nodded, a small gesture that led into a wide smile. “Be nice.” Dorian wasn’t wrong though. Even now as she leaned over a table to sign Josephine’s papers, she was someone that made Cullen’s throat tighten. The smile that made the scar on her jawline wrinkle. Broad shoulders, a somewhat small waist and wide-ish hips. There was a small curve to her back that was nice as well. So pretty—almost out of his league, he’d argue. Cullen considered approaching her, saying hello to her, but Josephine was already ushering her over.

“I’d like to introduce you to—”

“Cullen,” he said, smiling. He felt heat rise to his face when he saw Josephine’s mouth hanging open.  Clearing his throat, he held out his hand towards her and hoped he didn’t look like a complete fool. “I’m Cullen,” he repeated. When she took his hand, he’d been surprised how long her touch lingered there before she returned her hand to the books in her arms.

“Nice to see you again,” she smiled. Finally, she turned to Dorian. “You must be his roommate and the gentlemen I heard so much about from my brother.”

“Dorian Pavus.”

“Nice to meet you.” She glanced around the room before smiling. “This is a gorgeous room. I….I love the stonework.” Dorian resisted the urge to laugh when Josephine went into a discussion on the history of the university. Suddenly she paused, her eyes wide.

“Oh, it’s time. We really should get started. Everyone?” She pooled everyone together, waving them forward enthusiastically until people had surrounded her. Cullen couldn’t help but notice that the girl had stayed at his side, her elbow practically brushing against his. “First off, I just wanted to welcome everyone to our first student union meeting and to another year here to the University of Skyhold. I know it’s going to be a great year for the Inquisition.”

“So, is that a last name, or…?” The girl whispered in his ear so closely he could feel her breath. He caught a sideways glance of her standing on her tiptoes and couldn’t help but grin.

“Excuse me?”

“Is that a last name?” Cullen resisted the urge to laugh.

“No,” he managed.

“Oh.” She got quiet for a moment as Josephine began explaining the function of the student union to newcomers, but Cullen could feel her lean close to him once more. Her shoulder rubbed against his as he felt her breath near his neck. “So, what is it? Your last name, I mean.” He opened his mouth only for Josephine to gesture in his direction.

“Cullen, here, and Leliana, over there, are my fellow senior advisors. Leliana typically handles student media—posters, fliers, social media…that sort of thing. Cullen handles recruitment and orientation for incoming students. Some of you newcomers might have met him already. He’s pretty much the one you want to talk about if you want to lead tours, family visitation days, or need basic knowledge of policies and whatnot.” He held up a hand, half-heartedly waving it so that any new students could find him. “He also happens to be a person you want on your good side, because he is the student representative that assists with university probation.” Cullen cringed. He hated when Josephine brought that up—it made underclassmen either fear him or, worse, suck up to him.

“First order of business—I’d like to introduce you all to our new student director!” Josephine was clapping and, for a moment, Cullen was confused. They lost their former director last year- Ariadne Cousland- when she graduated, but everyone had assumed Josephine would take the helm. She could practically run the union herself with her hands tied the entire year, if she wanted. “Would you like to introduce yourself?” Cullen glanced around the room to see the girl next to him blushing. She took a step forward, nervously raising her hand for a moment only to readjust the books in her arms. Eventually, after fussing with them for a few minutes, she set them on a nearby table and cleared her throat.

“Um. Yes. Hi,” she offered a small smile. “I’m Gwyn Trevelyan. I transferred here from Ostwick University.” She paused, the only noise in the whole room coming from her nervous breathing. She scanned the room for a second to meet Cullen’s gaze. She looked like a deer in headlights, begging for some kind of help. “I, uh…I look forward to getting to know all of you. We’ll have a great year ahead of us?” Cullen sucked in a breath. Oh, Maker. She had said it like she wasn’t even sure of it herself. Josephine led an extremely scattered applause as Gwyn took her spot back next to Cullen.

“That went well,” she joked. Cullen wasn’t sure how to react to her, to be honest. She gave him a tight-lipped smile as he turned his focus back on Josephine.

“Well,” Josephine laughed nervously. “Please be sure to make Gwyn feel welcome. I’ll be helping her get settled in before our meeting next month. Please make sure I have all of your current information- Gwyn and I  _will_ be emailing you- and if you haven’t already signed up for welcome week duties, please do so before you leave! And, yes, before anyone asks-  _Dorian_ \- everyone is required to be present at the welcome dinner.” People were already scattering around the room, shuffling out the door or chattering with one another. Gwyn made a grab for her books, awkwardly settling them in her hand. She took a step towards him only to be stopped by Josephine and Leliana, both talking in hushed whispers.  

He considered waiting for her, but it seemed juvenile. He didn’t really even know her. He felt frozen, stuck watching her and when she caught his gaze, he wanted to stay. He could welcome her properly. Or maybe he should just go. He turned away only to see Cassandra making a bee-line towards him.

“Hey Cass—” He had barely gotten her name out before she was holding up a hand to silence him.

“You’re going to show her around tomorrow.” Cassandra’s eyes bored into his.

“What?” He laughed it off only to see Cassandra’s scowl.

“She’s new.”

“I can see that,” Cullen muttered. He didn’t do well one-on-one. Frankly, he didn’t think he ever did well with student orientation or tours. He didn’t have the patience, which is why he usually recruited other members of the student union to help him. Having him handle orientation and tours had been Josephine’s idea last year. He just needed some extracurriculars that would look good on his resume and Josephine thought he would eventually get comfortable with participating and having a larger role in the student union. “She’s not even a freshmen,” he added, silently hoping anything he said would sway Cassandra. She crossed her arms.

“Just show her the school, Cullen.”

“Why can’t you?”

“You know I’ve got to go with Josephine tomorrow check with the vendors for welcome week.” He pursed his lips, thinking hard of a way to get out it. Finally, Cassandra sighed. “Okay. I’ll handle orientation this weekend.” A smile crept on Cullen’s lips. He hated dealing with incoming freshman—too many people crying, too many girls clinging to him and hoping he would take them back to his dorm.

“Fine.”

* * *

It took Cullen a minute or two to realize Gwyn was a few steps behind him as he walked back to his dorm. Eyes on the concrete and notebooks pressed tightly to her chest, she huffed behind him. He gritted his teeth.  _Don’t do it_ , he chided himself.  _Don’t you dare._ But the longer she trailed after him, Cullen couldn’t help himself. He stopped in his tracks, turning around to face Gwyn.

 __“I didn’t realize I had a shadow.” She blushed, adjusting the books in her arms.

“We’re going to the same place, right?” She mumbled, avoiding his gaze. “Neighbors?”

“No. Right. You’re right,” he held back a laugh. “Except I’m not going back to the dorm. I was heading to the campus coffee shop.” Gwyn’s face turned pale as she looked around nervously.

“I thought—fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she grumbled, pulling out a wadded piece of paper from her pocket. Setting it on top of her books, she smoothed it with one hand. Finally, she looked up at Cullen—face red with embarrassment—and he felt his heart sink.  _Nice going_. Running a hand through his hair, he took a step towards her.

“Listen, it’s not a problem. Resident tour guide, at your service,” he laughed nervously, pulling his glasses from his pocket. Slipping them on, he gestured towards the map. “Look—this is where we are now. We left Theirin Hall a few minutes ago. Now, Griffon Hall—you’ll want to take this right fork and go straight through the gardens—that’s the best way to get home.” She followed his finger on the map until she frowned.

“But wouldn’t it be easier to go through Warden Union since—” Cullen shook his head.

“Only if you want to get food first. Besides,” he pointed in the direction of the dimly lit garden. “That’s one of the most underrated parts of campus.” She looked over at him, a small smile tugging on her lips as his framed amber eyes met hers.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” She started to fold the map only for Cullen to point to the Union.

“On the other side of the Union, there’s a small coffee shop. It’s usually where you can find me if I’m not in class, meetings, or in my dorm.” Cullen caught Gwyn’s expression and cleared his throat, searching for something else to add that would eradicate his embarrassment. “It, er, it opens at 5:30 and closes at midnight.” He wasn’t sure what more to say. How badly could he fail at something so simple? And so quickly, no less? He watched her fold her map, and walk to the fork, towards the gardens.

“Cullen.” Her voice was small, but the way she uttered his name was something he wouldn’t forget easily. She said it as if it were something she might break. He liked the way her lips curled upwards with the second syllable. She had a great smile; he wondered if she knew it. “Thanks for your help.” She gestured to the walkway. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head.

“I…” He considered asking her if she wanted to join him. He remembered what it was like to be new, to feel unwelcome. “It’s not a problem.”

“Have a good night,” she murmured.  She was already walking away and Cullen tried to ignore that pang of guilt. With his luck, she would’ve declined anyway.

“Rutherford.”  _What are you doing_? He felt his heart pound when she turned to face him.

“Excuse me?”

“My last name,” he explained, remembering her question earlier at the meeting. The way he had stifled a laugh at it. “Cullen Rutherford.”

“Cullen Rutherford,” she repeated, letting the name roll off her tongue. “You must be joking,” she laughed. When she smiled, her eyes seemed to crinkle. _Maker, she was pretty_. He considered leaving the conversation at that, but she walked towards him once again.

“How’s that?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him. She shook her head.

“For starters, it sounds ridiculous.”

“More so than Trevelyan?” he asked, grinning. Her mouth dropped open.

“Fair point,” she said finally, laughing. It was a musical sound, one that seemed like it could fill a room with light. Silence settled between them before Cullen finally spoke.

"Would you….” He stammered for the words that were slipping through his fingertips. “Would you want to get coffee with me? I could show you around the Union.” Her smile turned to one of sympathy.  _Oh no_.

“I’ve actually got to go over this paperwork Josephine gave me to get ready for welcome week. Sorry…” she frowned, looking away.

“Oh.”

"I’m not a big coffee person anyway. Hot cocoa, however, is a rather large weakness of mine.” she grinned, she was taking steps backwards and Cullen couldn’t blame her. He came off much more forward than he intended. He started towards the Union once more. “Cullen?”

“Yes?”

“I think a tour would be great. Maybe tomorrow, if you have time?” He wondered if Cassandra told her already about them switching off—that he was supposed to give her a tour anyway, but he nodded.

“Sounds fine. I’ll come by in the morning.” He felt like an idiot.

"Perfect,” she was still smiling at him, the grip on her books loosening. She took a few steps backward. “Have a good night, Rutherford.”

“Good night.” He walked to the Union—preparing to order his usual coffee (black or espresso, depending on his mood) with some sad attempt of his name that the barista never bothered to learn. Instead, he found himself requesting a hot cocoa. The barista raised his brow, putting together the drink and penning down the name  _Colin_  on the cup.

"Time for a change?” The barista droned, handing over the white cup. Change. He considered the word and what the infinite possibilities it held for him this year.

“Maybe it is.”


	2. When & Where?

 

“Gwyn?” Cullen knocked on her door, waiting a few minutes for some kind of response. All he could hear on the other side of the door was music blaring. Awkwardly shifting the two cups from the coffee house in his hands, he pressed his ear against the door. On the other side, Gwyn’s voice seemed faint, but a small smile crept on his lips when he heard her singing along. Suddenly it became interrupted by a loud THUD, followed by a shriek.

“FUCK. ANDRASTE’S FLAMING SWORD—FUCK.” He knocked on the door again.

  “Gwyn?” Another knock. “Are you okay?” There was shuffling behind the door as the volume of the music lowered and the door swung open to reveal Gwyn bent over and massaging her foot.

“What are you doing here?” She hissed, taking a seat on the couch.

“Tour of the campus…” He held out one of the coffee cups for her, trying to hide his smile. “Are you alright?” She eyed the cup in his hands, her teeth pulling at her bottom lip.

“Thanks Cullen, but you know I don’t—”

“Did I say it was coffee?” Her cheeks flushed as she took the cup from him. “Now—my first question. Are you okay?”

“I hit my foot on my desk when I was….”

“Dancing?” Cullen smirked. A deeper shade of red washed over her face.

“Could we possibly go back to that time where I looked less like a fool?” She forced a small, but hopeful laugh.

“So….before we met?” He joked. Gwyn opened her mouth to fire back, but frowned. Her lips twitched before she looked back up at him. “I didn’t…I mean…” Cullen squeezed the back of his neck. Maker, that was awful.  “I’m sorry.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t make it so easy,” Gwyn said quietly. Shit, Cullen thought.

“I didn’t mean—” He stammered out. This was why he didn’t want to be in charge of orientation in the first place—he was constantly saying the wrong things. Especially to the wrong people. He didn’t have the patience Josephine or Leliana had.

“You’re fine, Cullen.” She smiled, reaching out to pat his arm. Alarmed at her touch, he stared at her arm—small and freckled, decorated by a silver bracelet with a single, green gem in the middle. The moment was fleeting. Her hand had barely touched his forearm before she took a sip of her drink. Hot cocoa. The idea had come to Cullen on a whim while he stood in line that morning.

“Give me a moment to get ready and we can head out to experience all the beauty of Skyhold University that Cullen Rutherford can offer me,” she joked, flashing a wide smile. She disappeared behind an open door, soft music still playing.

Aside from the faint singing, there was an agonizing quiet that left Cullen looking around the room. Their apartment was smaller than his and Dorian’s—their living room nothing but a simple couch, desk, television, and miniature fridge. The walls were still bare—Gwyn and Cassandra probably haven’t gotten the chance to do much decorating yet. Cassandra’s bedroom door was shut—a dry erase board on the outside of it with her familiar scrawl:  _Out with Josephine for the day!_ Underneath, her cell number was posted. Gwyn’s door, on the other hand, was cracked open just enough for him to catch sight of a dark poster with a multitude of stars. He leaned forward, hoping to get a better look.

“Who’s Colon?” Gwyn asked, closing the door behind her and causing him to snap to attention.

“Excuse me?” Colon? Gwyn held up her cup of hot cocoa and pointed to the shaky scrawl of the barista. Sure enough, Colon was written on the side. He looked at his own cup and sighed—Colon. “Honestly, I wish I could say I was surprised.”

“I thought you spent a lot of your time there,” she said, holding the front door to the apartment open for him. He could see a small smile growing in the corner of her lips.

“Not enough, clearly,” he chuckled.

“Well, we’ll have to remedy that. Won’t we?” She said with a grin. One that caused her to tilt her head and her eyes to crinkle at the sides. Cullen felt paralyzed as he questioned this simple action. Was she….was she flirting? With him?He rubbed his neck, hoping to rub away any ounce of embarrassment that might have crept onto his face.

“Shall we?” He asked, walking out in the hallway.

“Lead the way, Master Rutherford.”

Gwyn tried to hold her surprise when he walked alongside her. She was used to having to trail behind others. She was shorter than most, and often five steps behind them. But not with Cullen. In fact, she noticed that if he took strides that were too long, he’d adjust within seconds. He walked with one hand on the leather strap of his messenger bag, another onto his coffee. She noticed that he took sips of it only when his eyes happened upon hers. He paused in front of a large tower and a nearby gazebo.

“This is where a lot of the parties take place,” he gestured to the patches of grass that surrounded them. “Welcome week, homecoming—I don’t think I’ve gone a semester without seeing someone vomit in the plants by the bell tower.”

“The vomit adds character, I’m sure,” Gwyn smiled. Cullen chuckled lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. Talking with Gwyn was growing surprisingly easy, or, at least, she was trying to make it so. He liked the way she used her hands whenever she spoke, using gesture after gesture in attempt to draw attention away from her face and the way she avoided eye contact.  

“You’re not a traditional student are you?” Her question surprised him. He opened his mouth to speak, but brought his cup of coffee to his lips instead. “That’s a no, right?” A small smile spread across her face, but she looked down when he started walking again. He shoved a hand in his pocket, his fingers idling with the items that often got lost there—a paperclip for some work he turned in that morning, his keys, and a large gold coin among the rest of his loose change. He fisted his hand around the coin, his jaw becoming tight.

“I was in the military for five years before I started university,” Cullen said softly.

  “Oh, older  _and_ a soldier.” Gwyn grinned only to realize Cullen didn’t return her smile. “Sorry, that was…stupid of me. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine.  _You’re_ fine.” The words came out quickly. “What about you? Ostwick University is an expensive school in comparison to Skyhold. How did you manage that?”

“Did you forget my last name? The ‘great’ Trevelyan Empire?” Cullen stared blankly at her. “Oh thank the Maker. My father breeds horses. Racing, farming….the Trevelyans birth and raise them all.”

“Horses?” Cullen stopped hold the door to the Union open for her. “ _That’s_  what your family built its fortune off of?”

“I worked three years in the company as a trainer before I could afford one year at Ostwick. Eventually my father secretly helped me out for the second year there, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep it up. After all, what the Trevelyans don’t tell you is that mothers don’t approve of her husband’s bastard children,” she smiled grimly. Cullen stared, mouth dropped open, and heat filled Gwyn’s cheeks. “Sorry! Shit. I shouldn’t have said anything.” He loosened his grip on the coin in his pocket.

“I don’t think I’ve met a single person who didn’t have troubles that weighed on their mind in some way. I don’t think I’d enjoy your company very much if you weren’t honest about it.” Gwyn looked up at his words and her face softened at the way Cullen smiled at her. His mouth was crooked, the scar on his lip wrinkling the more teeth he exposed. It was genuine and it was hard to ignore the butterflies it produced. Finally, he turned to gesture to the room around them. High ceilings, stained windows. “ _This_  is Warden Union. When the semester is in full-swing, you won’t be able to find a place to sit, let alone peace and quiet to hold a pleasant conversation.”

“So, this is one-time thing?” She walked around the main entrance, a large dome with windows that gave a view to the sky above. She looked up at decorated windows, a slow whistle echoing in the somewhat vacant room. He ears burned at the possibility of what she was implying.

“I…” he searched for the words, his hand instinctively flying to his neck the longer he grasped for anything. Circling around to face him, she grinned from ear-to-ear.

“I was thinking we should spend more time together.” It came out much more casually than Gwyn expected it to, and it surprised even her. Did she sound too forward? She hadn’t known him terribly long, but he was the first person she’d met. “I mean, if you  _want_. If you have time, I don’t want to put you out—”

“I’d like that.” She blinked. She wasn’t expecting that.

“Me too,” she spluttered, beaming up at him. He stared, caught off guard by her enthusiasm.

“You said that.” He said softly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“I did?” She blushed, covering her mouth in embarrassment. He could already tell she was cursing herself.

“Listen—would you…” He took a breath. “Would you want to meet with some of the others for dinner tonight? Dorian and Leliana usually have everyone get together at her apartment for dinner so we don’t go completely crazy during welcome week.” With the way she focused on him, he felt like he was talking too quickly, or maybe stammering a little too much. He reached for his neck, wishing this were easier. “It’d be a chance for you to get to know some of the other members of the Union.”

“Is this some grand ploy to get me drunk?” Gwyn raised her brow and Cullen’s eyes grew wide.

“What? No! You don’t even have to—” Suddenly she was laughing.

  “I’m only joking. Besides, I can already tell I’d drink you under the table,” she winked. “Look at you—reading glasses, muscles from doing Maker knows what, that cute thing you do with your neck? You’re a lush.” She was walking ahead of him, her eyes still studying the high ceilings. He felt his throat go dry. This woman. There was something about her. He followed after her.

“So, was that a yes?”

* * *

 

They had lunch together where they talked about family—Gwyn’s brother and how he was already texting her about Dorian. Cullen told her about Mia, Branson, and Rosalie—how Mia texted him practically every day to check on him, how Branson already a son. He found himself talking with her with an ease he still wasn’t used to. Maybe it was the way she wore her insecurities on her sleeve, how she seemed to fidget when they were entering territory she wasn’t comfortable exploring quite yet. Maybe it was how she looked at him in a way that made him feel  _good_ , like she understood there were parts of him she might never see, but how he was  _now_ mattered. Or maybe he was just being a fool.

On the way to Leliana’s, she walked ahead of him with Dorian chattering about the cost of books. When he had knocked on her door moments earlier, he had sucked in a breath at the sight of her in a blue dress that ended just before her knees.

“Too much? I can go change really quick _._ ”She asked him, fidgeting with a bracelet on her left hand. He stared at how she had pulled her hair back into a ponytail, wisps of hair already falling at the base of her neck. Dorian peeked over his shoulder.

“Oh, you look lovely. No wonder he’s speechless.” She smiled at Cullen, blue eyes sparking as Dorian offered her his arm. Cullen continued to trail behind them, catching Gwyn’s gaze every time she turned to smile in his direction.

“What are you studying?” Dorian asked as they walked the steps to Leliana’s building.

“Astronomy,” Gwyn grinned.

“A Trevelyan studying to be an astronomer, hm.” Dorian considered the idea.

“I doubt your parents were overly fond of the idea,” Cullen murmured, holding the door open for her. Dorian moved ahead, summoning the elevator.

“Not quite. My mother never cared for my interest. My father, on the other hand, I think he grew on the idea.” She smiled wistfully. They followed Dorian into the elevator where Gwyn glanced over him. “What about you, Cullen?”

“Oh, he’s the noble sort. He wants to be counselor,” Dorian sighed, pressing a button.

“Psychology,” Cullen interjected. The doors shut behind them.

“Wow…” she let out a slow whistle. “That’s a lot of school.”

“I received a scholarship,” Cullen admitted, fisting his hands in his pockets. “I used to attend the University of Dumat before I came here, actually.”

“Then he realized where the good people reside,” Dorian grinned.

“Dumat’s a prestigious school,” Gwyn shrugged, clearly impressed.

“Full of ignorant Red Templars that don’t even seem human,” Dorian hissed.

“We always face off against the Red Templars during homecoming. They always pull this ridiculous prank and every year it’s more awful than the last,” Cullen explained. “Last year, it…it got a little ugly when they took one of our students—Meri Hawke.”

“Took?”

“A nicer way of saying ‘kidnapped,’” Dorian spat. The doors opened and the three entered the hallway with Dorian leading the way.

“What’d they do?”  

“She was fine—she managed to escape before anything happened. Her boyfriend, on the other, was far from pleased. She, uh, she moved north,” Cullen sighed. He stopped at Leliana’s door. “Ready to meet everyone?” She sucked in a breath, hissing through her teeth.

“I haven’t made a very good first impression, have I?” She winced.

“Does it matter? You’re leading them whether they like you or not,” Dorian snorted.

“Dorian,” Cullen warned gently.

“I just mean, be genuine and they’ll notice. Hang them all if they hate you! We’re all a bunch of drunken students getting through school to begin with anyway,” Dorian grinned. Gwyn returned the smile, nodding her head.

“Thanks,” she whispered, knocking on the door.

“Just don’t touch the good wine and we’ll be right as rain,” Dorian countered.

When the door opened, Leliana grinned at the very sight of her.

“I was hoping you’d come! And you brought Cullen—he barely comes to these things! Cass and Josie are on their way with more food—I’ll introduce you to everyone!” Cullen watched as Gwyn was led away and Leliana glanced back in his direction. “Don’t worry, Cullen. I’ll take good care of her,” she whispered, casting a wink over her shoulder. She guided Gwyn into a corner where the rest of crowd talked among each other.

Despite her trepidation about getting to know the others, Gwyn seemed to fit in. She drank with Bull and Dorian, cracking jokes with them until she started up a conversation with Sera.

“You’re going to be in the same advanced chemistry course as me?” Gwyn coughed on her drink. “You’re…Leliana told me you’re a freshman.”

“And that means I can’t mix things up?” Sera pressed, arching her brow.

“Oh no! I didn’t mean…”

“I think, if anything, she’s right to be a little worried about the safety of everyone on campus,” Cullen grinned, leaning against the counter of the kitchen. Sera’s tongue darted out before she turned her attention back to Gwyn.

“It’d be boring if there weren’t an explosion every now and then, right? Anyway, some old git took notice of my abilities and offered me a scholarship,” she shrugged. “They said I showed some ‘potential,’ or whatever. I’m just here so I can get a bit of coin at the end of all this.”

“Well, at least there’ll be a familiar face in one of my classes this week,” Gwyn smiled.

“I’m sure she won’t be the only one,” Cassandra interjected, taking a seat beside Gwyn. “Astronomy major, right?”

“With a minor in a creative writing,” Gwyn admitted, blushing.

“Another one?” Cassandra grinned, taking a swig of her beer. “Varric—another starving artist in our midst!”

“Seeker, have you seen me? I’m hardly starving,” he called from across the room. “Besides, you still need to give me back my manuscript,” he raised a beer bottle in her direction only for her to scoff.

“Only when you’re finished with the next one,” Cassandra replied. A small smile appeared on her lips as she took another drink. “I take a few literature courses,” she explained.

Across the room, Cullen couldn’t help but watch the way she relaxed the longer she talked. She laughed with Varric-a loud howl that made her throw back her head and snort- and part of him wanted to be the cause. She glanced at him from time to time, her eyes eventually finding his and her lips twitching upwards.

“I didn’t take you for a walking cliché.” The sound of Leliana’s voice startled him. She stood at the sink, rinsing out dishes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cullen asked, turning to face her.

“Her,” Leliana grinned, gesturing in Gwyn’s direction. Confused, he walked to the sink and helped her rinse.

“Leliana, I know you. What are you playing at?” Leliana smirked, looking back at Gwyn.

“Well,” she sighed. “I think it’s sweet.”

“I’m being kind,” Cullen said flatly. “Besides, we’ve only just met a few days ago. It’s not as if—”

“As if you’ve been watching her almost all night?”

The question made heat rise to Cullen’s cheeks and he nearly dropped the bowl in his hands.

“I have not,” he argued.

“What’s going on here?” Gwyn leaned against the counter. Cullen felt his heart pound wildly—how much had she heard?

“Nothing,” Leliana hummed, drying her hands. She cast a look towards Cullen before walking away.  _Talk to her_ , she mouthed over her shoulder. His palms felt sweaty against the counter as Gwyn took a step towards him. She fidgeted with her hands, twisting and knotting her fingers until she took a breath.

“I should probably head back to the apartment.”

“So soon? I mean, of course,” Cullen stammered. “Would you…I mean, do you want someone to go with you?”

“Cassandra’s coming with me,” she explained. She must have caught his crest-fallen look because she offered a small smile. “I just…I really wanted to thank you for inviting me. I had a great time getting to know everyone.”

“I’m glad.” He meant it. It was clear the awkward air around her arrival and sudden rise to director had shifted. Cassandra suddenly called for her across the room and Gwyn bit her lower lip.

“That’s my cue,” she winced, smiling awkwardly. Cullen considered going with her, making up some excuse to Dorian so he could talk with her a little longer. She was turning to leave when Cullen reached for her arm.

“Listen,” he sucked in a breath, casting a quick glance around them. “Could I…I mean, would you mind if I got your number?” He didn’t have time to worry if she said no, because she was suddenly beaming. “So I can get ahold of you for welcome week,” he coughed.

“Of course,” she nodded. He pulled out his phone, fumbling with the screen as he tried to input her name and number. His hand shook when he realized she was leaning over his arm to watch him type.

“Gwyn with a y,” she said lightly, looking up at him. And there it was. Her phone number was there, the black letters of her name beaming up at him. She left the party saying goodbye to everyone as a group, but looked only at him when she spoke.

And half an hour later, as Cullen unlocked the door to his apartment, his phone chimed.

**< Gwyn Trevelyan> Lunch tomorrow?**

He stared at the bright text, his heart pounding the longer he looked at it. He glanced across the hall at her apartment door, a grin breaking out on his face. His hand shook for a moment as he typed out a reply. The bar at the top loading at top speed for what seemed like the first time in his life.

**_When and where?_ **


	3. Friends.

Class had been in session for two months and Gwyn hadn’t found the time to take a breath. She couldn’t deny that being a member of the Union had helped her considerably since classes started.

Sera had picked her as a lab partner in chemistry the first week of classes, which both relieved and panicked her each time they met in class. _Think teach would mind if we have a little project on the side—strictly for science, of course?_ When a small fire had started in the laboratory, it turned out that he did, in fact, mind, and they were only allowed in the lab with some sort of supervision.

“It’s only the third week of classes, ladies,” he’d said.

“But--we put the fire out, didn’t we? S’like it never happened, innit?” Sera urged with a smile.

Eventually, after a long-winded discussion from Gwyn about denying the exploration of science and discovery, the teacher agreed to keep the mishap under wraps as long as they promised to have supervision any time they wanted to complete another one of their “experiments.”

“You’ve a way with that name of yours,” Sera noted with a grin one afternoon.

“That’s…that’s not it,” Gwyn snorted, packing away her laptop.

“But you? You use your Trevelyan powers for good, yeah?” Sera added, scooping her books up. Gwyn shifted uncomfortably—she was aware of the leverage her name got her. It was the one of the reasons why Skyhold was so apt to have her fulfill the role of student director. The reason she was desperate to prove she deserved the role she was given. Sera must have caught her uneasiness, because she snorted a laugh.

“I…” Gwyn stammered. Sera patted her shoulder, a grin growing on her lips.

“I don’t care, Gwynnie. Just as long as you study chemical equilibrium for the lab tests coming up.”

By now, thanks to Sera’s help, Gwyn felt relief at the sight of a thinly-marked, red B on the top of her exam.

“You planning on telling the strong, silent one?”

“What?”

“Your good friend, Cullen-wullen?”

“What are you going on about? He helped me study, of course I’m telling him.”

“Oh, you’re taking the fun out it,” Sera groaned, gathering her things.

“We’re friends—we help each other study,” Gwyn urged.

 “Ugh, see you later, Gwyn. Congrats on that B—s’not bad for a dodgy rich girl,” Sera said, grinning as she left the classroom.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, I think. Thanks for your help, Sera!” Gwyn called. She looked down at the exam once more before folding it in half, a smile spreading over her face. She probably should thank Cullen. He was just as much responsible for helping her raise her grade as Sera was.

She gathered her books with a sense of pride, pulling out her phone to scroll through her messages as she walked out in the hall. A group message from Josephine _(Remember: Inquisition union meeting at 8! Attendance is mandatory—we’re discussing Homecoming events! Please try not to be late (you know who you are!)_

Gwyn started to type a response—she wasn’t _always_ late. She paused when she saw Cullen’s name flash on her screen.

**_Give our fearless leader a break._ **

Another buzz. Dorian.

**_She’s only late when a day ends in ‘Y.’_ **

She scoffed as she rounded a corner, typing furiously as she pushed past a large group of students. Cullen knew she hated being late, knew she disliked having to rush.

**_< Gwyn> I’ll be there. EARLY. _ **

She could practically hear Cullen snorting at her response.

The truth was that he was the reason they were usually late. Well, part of the reason. She, Cullen, and Dorian had started having dinner almost every other night together. Even Brennan made the drive to visit from time to time. Sometimes Cassandra would come along if she had time, but it was easy to lose track of time when they talked. _I’m supposed to be setting an example_ , Gwyn had told him one evening the two of them had to run across campus. As if on cue, Cullen’s name appeared on her phone.

“Remind me to give Dorian shit later,” Gwyn answered, holding her phone between her shoulder and cheek as she opened a double door. He laughed on the other end and Gwyn couldn’t help but grin. She hadn’t heard it very often since they met, but she liked the sound. Soft and short—like he could easily laugh louder, but held back. She always wondered what it would be like to hear him let go.

“Are we still on for lunch? I’m on my way to the dorms right now, but I can meet you wherever,” she asked, heading towards the gardens. It’d become a ritual of sorts. Have lunch, talk about the classes they’ve had so far, then end up walking to their next class together. It was one of the few things about most Monday and Wednesdays that she’d come to enjoy.

Cullen made her feel normal, accepted even. At meetings held so far, it was usually him that brought the discussion back to her. He was always asking her opinion during them, checking with her. _Maybe we should ask Gwyn what she thinks._ But that didn’t stop him from disagreeing with the ideas she brought to the table. Maker, when he argued, he stood his ground. In the last meeting, Gwyn had come up with an idea to invite neighboring universities just before homecoming, as a sort of unifying party between three schools. Cullen was the first to shake his head, the first to scoff at her idea. _Do you even know what you’re asking?_ While his disagreements frustrated her to no end, there was a sense of relief that came from his brutal honesty.

“Actually, that’s why I wanted to give you a call,” Cullen murmured. He sounded slightly muffled—the background buzzing with conversation.

“Maker’s breath, Cullen—where _are_ you? I can barely hear you,” Gwyn complained, pausing near the bench in the garden. Cullen had been right—it was one of the best spots on campus. Flowers were planted in two sections, while the others were herbs—all labeled for the use of anyone on campus. In the center of it all was a small white gazebo. _Andraste’s Blessing_. That’s what Cullen had called it on one of the many tours he’d given her.

“The rumor is that if you have your first kiss as a couple there, Andraste will bless you and you’ll be destined to be together forever,” he had told her as she walked over the threshold. Her fingers ran over the peeling white paint, her nails tracing where names and dates of couples had been carved into the wood.

“Sounds ridiculous,” she murmured. “Surely people don’t believe in that?”

“Do I look like someone who would mock tradition?” Cullen had asked, leaning against the railing. “Our last director—Ariadne Cousland? From Highever? She kissed her boyfriend for the first time here.”

“And?”

“They’re married now—their names are carved in here somewhere,” he murmured. He studied the nearest pole, amber eyes scanning for the right initials. Gwyn watched as he stood to look at the frame of the gazebo, eyes darting over every name listed.

“So…did you….I mean, have _you_...” Gwyn danced around the question, her fingers twisting the longer it took her to coax the question out. She took a breath, closing her eyes to find the bit of bravery that lingered somewhere in her body. “Would I find your name somewhere on here, Rutherford?” He froze at her question and Gwyn suddenly felt ridiculous for asking. She looked at her feet, her boot dragging across the wooden floor. Of course he had. Probably more than once.

“To find my name here, I’d have to have kissed someone in this gazebo.” His voice was low, but she could have sworn she saw a hint of a smile on his lips when he glanced over his shoulder.

“Too many to pick from, I imagine,” Gwyn joked.

“Why would I want Andraste to bless something I’m not sure I want?” Cullen turned around to face her, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Who says Andraste is watching over people kissing in a gazebo at all? Do you think she watches people fuck too?” Cullen’s jaw slackened and immediately Gwyn’s face turned a deep red. Maker, what had she just said? “I didn’t…” she fumbled, trying to think of a way to salvage the moment but stopped at the sight of Cullen’s wide grin.

“Want to start over?” he asked.

“Maker, yes,” she sighed, tension slowly leaving her shoulders.

“This is Andraste’s Blessing. No, you won’t find my name carved in here, and, no, I haven’t…” he paused, taking a breath to fight the laugh that was bubbling to the surface, “kissed anyone in this gazebo. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, come over here so I can show you Ariadne and Alistair’s names.” She walked to the spot next to him, peering at the top of the door frame.

“I don’t see it,” she murmured, shaking her head.

“What? It’s plain as day,” Cullen argued, pointing it out. She leaned in, her arm almost brushing against his.

“You’d think if Andraste was going to bless their relationship for all eternity, she’d want them to have legible handwriting,” she muttered, standing on tip toes to get a better look. She moved to brush the carving with her fingertips only to lose her balance and bump right into Cullen’s arm. “Sorry,” she mumbled. He had reached out to stop her from falling, even though she wasn’t. His hand gripped her shoulder, gently squeezing her through the material of her jacket.

“Are you alright?” He had laughed when he said it, soft…warm. The kind of sound Gwyn wanted to wrap herself in. The same reserved laugh she heard time and time again ever since.

“Gwyn?” She snapped back to the sound of his voice on the other end. “Can you hear me?”

“Sorry. Yes—lunch,” she stammered, forcing herself to look away from the gazebo. “I was thinking we should try that new Tevinter pizza place. Dorian told Brennan about it the other day and I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind since.” She waited for his usual off-the-cuff remark about her appetite, even the beginning of that low chuckle of his, but it never came. “Cullen? Are you there?”

“About lunch,” Cullen sucked in a breath.

“What is it?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“The pizza or—?” She trailed off, afraid of his response.

“I’m not feeling well.” A beat, a breath. “Sorry.”

“Oh,” Gwyn tucked her lip behind her teeth. He had canceled plans with her the day before, explaining that he was behind on some homework. “Right. No, I understand. I hope you feel better tomorrow.”

“I’m really sorry.” She could hear him swallow on the other line. “Truly.”

“No, you should get some rest. I…” Gwyn stammered, trying to push away the question that was nagging at her mind. _Is it me? Have I done something?_ She looked up to see two students walk under the covered gazebo in front of her—both holding each other’s hands and smiling. She looked back at her feet. “I can make a transcript of tonight’s meeting if you’d like.”

“That’s not necessary.” He said it like he couldn’t get the words out fast enough and Gwyn could feel a strange shift. There was something he wasn’t saying.

“Oh,” she grew quiet, eyes glancing up to see the couple at the gazebo kissing. The girl was pushed against the frame, her boyfriend’s hands cupping her face. “Andraste’s blessing,” she murmured, unable to stop the sad lilt in her voice.

“What?”

“I got a B on my chemistry exam—did I tell you yet?” She looked away from the couple, forcing herself to her feet. Suddenly she didn’t want to be anywhere near the garden, anywhere near the gazebo or the couple kissing underneath it.

“That’s great—” If she closed her eyes, she could imagine him smiling on the other end.

“Yeah, Sera said I did well for a dodgy rich kid,” she added. He laughed—a short one. A smaller one. It almost sounded forced and the thought made Gwyn wince. “I should probably go if I want to get something to eat,” she murmured.

“Gwyn?” He sounded worried. Maybe even sad.

“I hope you feel better, Cullen.” She meant it. She truly did. “Pizza another time?”

“Gwyn—” he paused, a deep exhale on the other line. “Sounds great.”

She hung up before he could return her goodbye and walked to her next class. Part of her wasn’t sure why she was so upset. He didn’t owe her anything.  They’d only known each other a little over two months, but she considered him to be a good friend. Probably one of her closest ones aside from Cassandra and Dorian. Maybe it was the fact he was the first person she met.

Whatever it was, why couldn’t he tell her the truth?

* * *

 

It wasn’t until Gwyn saw Cullen walk into the meeting half an hour late that she felt her heart sink. He looked in her direction as she spoke, whiskey eyes meeting hers. His face pale, his clothes wrinkled, and curls coming loose near the base of his neck.  He looked tired—weak, even, as he walked towards Cassandra, leaning in her ear.

“Gwyn?” Josephine called. Everyone was eyeing her now, even Cullen.

“Right. Homecoming—we have a series of small events throughout the week. The largest, of course, being the party—” she paused at the sound of Cullen in the background.

“It’s relentless,” he hissed. His voice sounded hoarse. Just as tired as he looked. Gwyn met his gaze, a frown on her lips and he looked to the floor.

“Forgive me,” he muttered, pulling Cassandra out into the hall. She stared at the figures behind the door, watching Cullen’s shadow as he paced.

“…and the football game,” Gwyn concluded, chewing her lip.

“Leliana has the sign-up sheets. _Everyone_ is required to sign up for homecoming activities. We have one week, everyone!” Josephine clapped her hands together excitedly, but Gwyn couldn’t stop eyeing the door as people began to murmur amongst themselves.

“Please volunteer,” she said, clearing her throat. Cassandra entered the room and Gwyn held her breath. If he came back in, everything was okay. She let out a slow breath, Josephine chattering to the crowd about the different jobs available.

 _Three_ , she whispered, her eyes settling on the door. It was slowly shutting behind Cass. _Two_ , she could see Cullen’s outline through the window of the second door. He raked a hand through his hair. She closed her eyes, hoping to hear the familiar creak of the door. _One_ …he was gone.

“Gwyn?”  Leliana nudged her gently.

“What? Oh. Right,” she glanced down at her notes. “We have two more meetings this weekend as we prepare for homecoming. Josephine will text you reminders…” she trailed off, her eyes traveling back to the door.

“I think that’s all for today,” Cassandra announced, taking a step forward. She gestured to the door. “Walk home with me.”

They didn’t talk the first five minutes. Cassandra walked too fast—she was taller than Gwyn, her moves more self-assured. Each step she took was one that made Gwyn feel small in a way she hadn’t noticed before. It made sense that Cullen would go to her for help. He knew her longer. Plus, Cassandra was gorgeous—sharp features that anyone would love, a determination that went unmatched.

 “It’s ridiculous,” Cassandra mumbled, turning into the garden.

“What?”

“People think _I’m_ stubborn,” Cassandra started.

“Those people haven’t met Cullen,” Gwyn amended, offering a forced smile.

“You have no idea,” Cassandra muttered. She walked in the gazebo, leaning against the railing. “Did Cullen tell you he was in the military?”

“He’s mentioned it,” Gwyn murmured, adjusting the books in her arms.

“Has he talked about what happened to him? Or that he was addicted to lyrium?” Gwyn stared, sinking down onto the nearby bench. Lyrium. Pain medication. She remembered her brother being prescribed it once. The small blue vials it came in, the sickly sweet smell of it.

“No,” she murmured. “He…hadn’t talked about it.”

“He’s been sober for a little over a year now…but there’s…lasting effects.” Gwyn knew. She’d heard stories at Ostwick. Worse, she’d gotten a taste when her brother refused to take it any longer. Sweats, chills. Aches and pains beyond belief….and that was just the beginning. “This week has been…difficult than most. Cullen’s asked to step down from the union. He’s actually thinking of withdrawing from school in general—”

“He can’t!” Gwyn said, bringing herself to her feet.

“Don’t worry. I said the same,” Cassandra sighed, walking towards her. “Do you know what leaving would do to him? He’s come _so_ far.”

“Why…why wouldn’t he come to me?” Gwyn asked. They were friends; he could trust her.

“He and I have an agreement. I have….friends who’ve helped him in the past. And,” she took a breath. “Cullen wouldn’t want to risk disappointing you.”

“I’d never be disappointed,” she spluttered. “What he’s doing is brave a-and… _amazing_ and—”

“Tell him. You two have gotten close since you’ve started. He might see reason if it’s from you.”

* * *

 

She never walked faster. Fumbling with her books, coffee carrier, and a bag in her arms, she raced up the stairs of Griffon Hall. Standing outside the door, she adjusted the items in her arms before knocking. What if he didn’t answer? He might not even want to see her.

“Cullen?” She leaned against the frame of his door, knocking again. “Please?”

“What?” He all but growled as he swung open the door. He wore his glasses, his hair becoming more tousled from the last time she saw him. “Maker’s breath! Gwyn! Forgive me, I didn’t realize it was you.” She offered a small smile, nodding towards the items in her arms.

“Nice pajamas,” she said, smiling. Navy blue with mabari on them—a gift from Leliana for Christmas last year. “How are you feeling?”

“A little weak, but I’ll be alright. What are you doing here?” he asked, his brows narrowing.

“I brought you a few things,” she shrugged. “Listen, I know you know how much I love the view from the hall, but is it alright I come in?”

“Right. Of course!” He opened the door, allowing her to brush past him. She set her things on his coffee table, pulling out small bowls.

“I brought soup—do you like chicken noodle? I also have this broth from Free Marches—I can’t _believe_ they had it in stock….you _have_ to try it.”

“What are you doing here, Gwyn?” He ran a hand through his hair, a curl near his ear coming loose soon after. She chewed her lip and Cullen groaned. “Cassandra told you, didn’t she?”

“She did, but we don’t have to talk about it. Not right away, if you don’t want to,” she whispered. She looked back at the table. “We can just have soup and drink coffee….or we can talk. Whatever you want.” He clenched his fist and Gwyn reached for his hand. She unfurled it carefully, her fingers small as she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Her voice was small and Cullen hated that she knew, hated that she was aware of that part of his life now.

“You don’t have to—” Her fingers squeezed his again—her touch, warm—and Cullen hated the feeling when she let go to kneel at his table.

“I want to,” she said, smiling. “Now—I heard coffee can help with some headaches, so I asked for your favorite. Extra caramel, naturally. Also, if you direct your attention to the side of your cup…” She showed him the side. _Collin_ had been crossed out on the side and _Cullen_ was written in the barista’s shaky scrawl underneath. She returned to setting out the soups, putting spoons in both bowls.

“Gwyn…” She closed her eyes at the sound of his voice.

“You’re my friend. You can’t leave,” she whispered. Cullen froze when she opened her eyes, tears already welling in the bright blue of her irises. “Cassandra told me how far you’ve come.”

“It’s not that simple,” Cullen murmured.

“Then _talk_ to me about it,” Gwyn countered, standing up.

“And tell you what? That I watched my entire squad _die_? That I watched them die because of mistakes my leaders made? That I blindly followed orders and listened to them call for help that never came?” His face became twisted as he took a step towards her, his voice shaking and breaking with every other word. “I watched my men—my _friends—_ get slaughtered. I watched innocents _die_. I was tortured, how could…how could _anyone_ be the same person after that?” he spat. He watched her, waiting for the response he expected. Anger…maybe pity. He didn’t expect her understanding. Didn’t expect her to reach out for him.

“No one expects you to be the same person you were. It’s natural that—” He pushed her hand aside, turning away from her.

“Don’t! You should be questioning everything I’ve done—”

“Cullen.”

“I thought giving up the lyrium would be better, that I could regain some control over my life. But these thoughts won’t _leave_ —” She pressed a hand to his chest and Cullen felt paralyzed by the way tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Do you really want to withdraw from school? To leave the program? Is that what _you_ want, Cullen?” Her eyes met his, the tears on her face running over freckle after freckle. He was her first friend. The first person she wanted talk to about her day. One of the few people she didn’t mind arguing with so far.

“No,” he whispered, taking a breath. She was right. It wouldn’t do any good to leave. If anything, things would only get worse. “But, this…it doesn’t just fix itself. It’s…I can’t just forget what happened.”

“I know,” she nodded. “No one is asking you to forget. But what you’re doing is brave and I think you can do this.” She smiled at him, a wide grin that made her freckles wrinkle. She moved to go to the table, but Cullen wrapped his hand around hers. Blue eyes wide, her gaze flitted from his hand to his face.

“Thank you,” he murmured, letting go. She sunk onto his couch, pulling a bowl of soup into her lap.

“You should eat before it gets cold.” She patted the empty cushion next to him, beaming up at him until he reluctantly approached her. He settled onto the couch next to her and she did something Cullen felt like he could have kissed her for.

She talked about food. _You have to try strawberries from the Free Marches sometime—you have no idea what you’re missing out on. How’s that broth? It can be a bit too sweet for you southerners. Do you want to try the chicken noodle? Maker, we need to try that Tevinter pizza place. Tonight Dorian told me they have a pizza with ten cheeses on it—I can’t even name ten cheeses off at the top of my head, can you? Maker’s breath, am I rambling? Sorry._

She fell asleep on his couch halfway through a television show neither of them were really paying attention to. He stood up to go into his bedroom only to look down at her. Gwyn’s hair splayed around the couch cushion like a dark halo and on her lips was a half-smile. She shivered slightly, nestling deeper in the couch and tucking her feet under one of the cushions. Careful not to wake her, Cullen pulled out one of his extra blankets and laid it over her before retreating to his room.

“Cullen?” Her voice was small, heavy with sleep. He poked his head out of his room, wondering if she planned on returning to her dorm across the hall.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t let me sleep in tomorrow,” she mumbled.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Night, Trevelyan.”

“G’night, Rutherford,” she yawned, rolling over. He stood near his door, watching as she pulled the blanket tightly around her. She tucked one of her arms under her head, her breaths even but louder than he thought they’d be as she slept. One of her hands rested over the material of the blanket near her stomach and Cullen couldn’t help but miss the feel of her fingers resting on his. _Stop it_ , he warned himself. It wasn’t like that. Friends, she’d said. She cared and wanted him to stay because they were friends.

 _Friends_ , he reminded himself.


	4. The Druffalo

Gwyn’s eyes fluttered open, waking to soft humming and the slant of light that washed over Cullen’s apartment.  She looked over at the source to see Cullen drying his hair with a towel.  Water dripped from the loose curls and Gwyn tried to think of a time where she’d seen him like this before. He wore a baseball shirt, the sleeves pulled up past the elbows. He looked so much more at ease, happier.

“G’morning,” he said, smiling. She pushed herself to a sitting position, yawning and stretching. He threw his towel over his shoulder and motioned towards the coffee table. “I got us some food. Nothing big—just some breakfast sandwiches. Would you like bacon or sausage?”

“You _made_ breakfast?” she asked, wiping sleep from her eyes.

“Oh, Maker, no. I got up earlier to go for a run and thought you might like some. Now,” He pushed the sandwiches toward her, “bacon or sausage?”

“You know the way to my heart, Rutherford,” she told him, reaching for the bacon sandwich.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d want to drink, so I got you a cup of cocoa. There’s also orange juice in the fridge, if you’d rather….what?” She was staring at him, her mouth hanging open until a wide grin spread across her face. “What is it?”

“I just…” she faltered, eyes dropping to the food on the table. “Thank you, Cullen.”

He flashed a warm smile. “You’re welcome.” He settled beside her on the couch, chewing his lip until he felt her nudge his side with the extra sandwich.

“Feeling better?” she asked, her voice muffled between bites.

“Yes,” he admitted. He remembered her tears the night before, the warmth of her hand covering his. “I…I wanted to thank you for yesterday. The soup, the talk. I know I should have told you about it all—.”

She waved him off, shaking her head. “No worries. I was…” A frown played on her lips before she turned to face him. “I was upset at first, but then I realized we’re still…new. There’s things we still don’t know about each other…”

 She said it with a forlorn smile, and Cullen could see the guilt in her eyes. There were things about her family she shied away from. The scar on her face she hadn’t explained. He studied the way she nibbled at her sandwich and he couldn’t help but wonder if she was ashamed of him somehow, if she would look at him in the same way she would look at a wounded pup.

“Cullen?” She had put her sandwich down and was now fidgeting, knotting her fingers until she forced herself to look up at him. She opened her mouth to speak, the words caught just behind her teeth. Cullen braced himself—a letdown to something that hadn’t even really begun yet; that would be a first.

He liked that he was the first person she met on campus, and that she had started each morning by greeting him with a cup of coffee after one of his runs. A few times she had offered to help him study and bribed him with more coffee if he wouldn’t mind letting her tag along, but their runs turned into his strides growing shorter until they both just walked and talked. He liked that she never complained about him spending more time studying than “having fun,” even if his idea of fun was a simple movie night. She even played chess with him with little to no complaints—just a furrowed brow and bitten-down nails as she strategized.

He liked _her_.

He swallowed hard, his eyes meeting hers. _Here it comes_. His chest tightened.

“You should eat,” she urged, nudging him with her elbow once more. Cullen breathed a sigh of relief as he unwrapped his own sandwich. She glanced at the clock before looking back at him. “Would you want to play a quick game of chess?”

“Is there such thing as a ‘quick game’ with you?” Gwyn was already moving to his bedroom to pull his chess set out from underneath his bed. She laughed, the sound filling the walls of the apartment as he cleaned off the table.

“To be fair, I almost beat you last time,” she reminded, setting up the board.

“ _Almost_.”

They sat in silence as they played, not needing to talk about anything. Every so often, her eyes glanced up at him.

“Don’t cheat,” he said with a chuckle, gently swatting at her hand when she touched one of his pieces.

Her hand clutched her chest in mock horror. “Cheat? Me? You don’t know me at all, Rutherford.”

“That’s the problem,” he said with a chuckle. A smirk broke across his face as he moved a knight into a prime location. Resting his chin in his hands, he watched her carefully. He could have her in no less than three moves. Her eyes scanned the board, her teeth tugging at her bottom lip.

She went to reach for one of her bishops only for her hand to brush his. Her eyes flickered to his face when he suddenly realized his thumb was still lingering over the back of her hand. No sooner did his hand instinctively fly to his neck. “Sorry,” he murmured.

Before she could answer, the sound of her phone ringing filled the room. She glanced at the ID, frowning.

“It’s Brennan, I have to take it. Sorry.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble. Go ahead,” he assured her.

She rose to her feet, her brow furrowing the more she listened to Brennan talk on the other end. Pacing the room, she swore under her breath. “Well, tell her I said _no_. What do you mean tomorrow? Are you fucking kidding me?” Her voice grew louder the longer she stayed on the line, her eyes nervously flitting over to Cullen. He started to rise from the couch only for her to shake her head.

“I can go,” he whispered, but she was setting back on the couch next to him. He was about to get up once more when she reached for his arm and pulled him back down.

“Stay? Please?” she begged in a whisper. Suddenly she was groaning in exasperation. “No, Brennan. I’m not--talk to dad? No, _you_ talk to him. Last time I tried, mom answered and I’m not about—Bren, are you listening to me? _Bren_. I’m not showing her a damn thing. Don’t you dare hang—ANDRASTE’S FUCKING…SHIT!”

She punctuated the end of the call by throwing her phone across the room. It skittered across the table before shattering against the wall and Gwyn hunched over, her face in her lap.

He counted to five before he brought his hand to her back, his fingers feeling the curve of her spine. “Gwyn?”

She met his gaze, hot tears already welling up in her eyes.

“Apparently my mother is sending my sister here for homecoming week.”

“Oh.” he nodded slowly. She hadn’t quite gone into detail about the wedge that existed between her and her sister, but he knew enough to know if she was coming—the end result would never be good. “What exactly does your mother hope to achieve by sending her?”

“To ‘make sure I’m spending their money wisely, among other things’ which is nothing but a joke,” she scoffed, her hands curling into fists. Wiping the tears off her face, she laughed bitterly. “Our game will have to wait,” she sighed, bringing herself to her feet to collect the pieces of her phone.

“Would you want to have dinner tonight? Some calm before the storm that is Mariana Trevelyan?” he asked, moving to help her. “I’ve got our favorite Chinese takeout on speed dial,” he added with a smile, hoping he wasn’t coming across as too eager.

Her face softened at his offer, her lips curling upward as he handed her the back plate of her phone.

“I’d say I’ll text you, but—” A sheepish grin washed over her face as she gestured to the cracked screen and pieces of phone in her hand.

“I’ll just have to take your word for it,” he said, smirking. He walked her to the door and froze when she awkwardly sidled up next to him with a quick hug.

“Sorry for crying so much in your apartment. I’ll try to do less of that,” she promised, her voice somewhat muffled in the side of his shirt.

He could smell the shampoo in her hair—strawberries, a hint of vanilla. “Well, if you promise to bring me more of that Marcher broth of yours sometime…”

Gwyn reached for the door handle, a smile on her face. “That could be arranged.” She opened the door, turning to face him. “Cullen?”

“Yes?”

“For what it’s worth…I like who you are now.”

Before he could respond, she had closed the door behind her, his heart swelling and leaving him without words. 

* * *

 

 After dinner that night, he only saw her in glimpses over the next few days. He saw her walking down the dorm hall when he was getting ready for one of his morning runs. Gwyn was talking with a girl a foot taller than her when she glanced behind at him, a small smile on her face. The hand at her side gave a small, subtle wave until she turned the corner. He had considered running after her, but thought better of it. She had made a point of saying she wanted to keep Mariana as far from him as possible.

“It’s not a problem. I’ve met some awful people in my life,” he argued.

“But you haven’t met Mariana.  Or my mother, for that matter. Maker, I hope you never meet my mother,” she sighed, reaching her chopsticks into Cullen’s container of food.

He held the container out to her. “All you have to do is ask, you know.”

“That takes all the fun out of it,” she said, her mouth full of noodles. She leaned into him, her thigh brushing against his as she handed him an eggroll. “Promise me, you’ll stay away while my sister’s here?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not a child.”

“I know.” She set her food down, her hands fidgeting her lap. “I just—I’d rather you not get dragged into any messes she causes. Because I know how she is…and—”

“And?”

“She’s like some kind of charging druffalo. Looking at it from far away, you _think_ you can handle it, but then…chaos.” He tried not to laugh at her comparison, but failed miserably. “Just trust me. Stay away as long as possible.”

So he did. Luckily Brennan had made a point of getting a new phone for her, so there was no short notice of random texts from Gwyn in the days that followed.

**[Monday; 3:22 PM] <Gwyn> Mariana just told me our campus smells like dog. I may be a Marcher, but I’ll be offended for all of Ferelden for you.**

_[3:24 PM] <Cullen> As you should be. All of Ferelden thanks you._  
**  
[7:45 PM] I miss you! Movie night as soon as the druffalo leaves?**

Cullen’s heart pounded. She missed him. He took five minutes just to respond.

_[8:00 PM] It’s a date._

**[Tuesday; 7:49 AM]  I saw Dorian getting coffee. He met the druffalo—went toe to toe with it…and lived.**

_[8:01] I don’t think your sister would be keen to find out you’ve been referring to her as a druffalo these last few days._

**[8:04] Well, talk to Dorian when he gets home and see if he disagrees.  
[8:04] P.S. Is that any way to talk to someone who bought coffee for you  & sent it home with your roommate?**

_[11:40] Just got out of psych. I’m really rethinking signing on as a TA. Too many freshman. Orlesian freshman. Probably not unlike the druffalo you’ve had on your heels these last few days.  
[11:42] Thanks for the coffee, by the way. Hope your day’s going alright._

**[12:15 PM] Mariana’s staying for the bon fire. I had such high hopes of Sera scaring her away in chemistry today. It didn’t work. Sorry we’re both having awful mornings.**

_[12:16 PM] It could always be worse._

**[12:17 PM] You Fereldans.  
[12:18 PM] P.S. You realize that there’s a reason those girls hit on you.**

_[1:25 PM] Well, I think we can rule out the dog smell._

He knew it’d get a laugh out of her. He started typing a second message: __  
  
I miss you too.  
  
He stared at the blinking cursor, his thumb hovering over the ‘send’ button only to backspace repeatedly a second later. Another time.

* * *

 

On Wednesday evening, she walked towards her dorm while he fumbled with the key to his own. He smiled in her direction, happy to see that she was finally alone. He had started to say her name when he saw what had to be Mariana turn the corner.

She shared the same brown hair as Gwyn—a shade of chestnut that grew past her shoulders, except with curls that bounced with every step she took. She had a smaller frame than Gwyn and her long legs made Mariana almost tower over her. Looking at Mariana’s face, Cullen could see with even more clarity of how much she differed from her younger siblings. Her features were sharper, her eyes a light shade of green. Her lips fuller, fixed in a scowl.

“Gwyneth! I thought I asked you to wait!” Mariana’s voice was shrill as she stomped down the hall after her and Gwyn winced, mouthing an apology to him. “Maker, I can’t believe you have to walk up and down all those stairs every day. Is this place so poor it doesn’t have an elevator?”

Cullen cleared his throat, pointing down the hall in the opposite direction. “There’s an elevator that way.”

Mariana’s nose wrinkled at the sound of his voice. “Do I _know_ you?”

“I don’t think so. I’m a friend of Gwyn’s.”

“A friend?” Her eyes scanned Cullen up and down. “Gwyneth actually has friends? _Good-looking_ friends?” Mariana glanced back at her sister, her brow arching.

Gwyn forced a smile. “Mariana, this is Cullen. He’s a senior advisor in the union and happens to be my neighbor. Cullen, meet my sister.”

He held out his hand, not bothering to smile at the upturned nose in front of him. “Nice to meet you.” Mariana eyed his hand for a moment before turning back to Gwyn.

“I need to talk to you about this bon fire tomorrow,” Mariana hissed.

“Of course,” Gwyn said brightly, unlocking her door. “Nice seeing you Cullen,” she added. Mariana stared at him, her lips in a hard line.

“Let’s go,” she muttered, pushing past Gwyn to get in the apartment.

He offered a sympathetic smile. “I’ll be here. See you tomorrow, Gwyn.” She closed the door in attempt to shield her voice.

“I am so sorry,” she whispered, wincing.

He grinned at her, leaning close. “Looks like I managed to survive,” he said in a low voice, resisting the urge to laugh.

“Round one, anyway,” Gwyn snorted.

“Everything going alright?”

“Well, as alright as it can—” There was a shout from inside Gwyn’s apartment and she sighed. “I’ll text you later.”

“Sounds good.” He nodded towards the door. “Good luck in there.”

That night when he’d gotten home from his late class, he could hear Gwyn’s voice from inside the apartment. The door opened, Cassandra leaning against the frame to steady herself.

“I’m staying with Leliana, this is ridiculous,” she spat.

Cullen frowned, opening the door to his own apartment. “That bad?” There was an exasperated scream from inside. Cassandra winced.

“All evening. I’ve only caught bits and pieces of them tearing into each other, but it appears to be about a date to the bon fire.” Cassandra sighed, shaking her head. “Enough for me to tire of their squabbling, anyway. I’m leaving.”

Within minutes, Gwyn was texting him.

**[8:34 PM] I’m going to murder everyone.**

He walked into his apartment, settling down on his bed.

_[8:35 PM] Sounds unwise._

He considered asking about the argument- about the date- but he thought better of it. He took a deep breath. Maybe she wouldn’t go through with it. After all, she didn’t owe her mother anything.

His phone buzzed to life—Gwyn’s name flashing before him. 

“There you are,” he said. “I wondered when you were going to give in and call.”

“I figured you got home just in time to hear those words of affection between me and Mariana.”

“Where are you hiding out?”

“Cass’s room.”

“Good idea.” There was a stillness between them, their quiet breaths the only sound existing. Finally, Cullen spoke. “Are you okay?”

“I have a date,” she whispered. “To the bon fire. Something set up by my mother—apparently that was one of the many reasons she sent Mariana here. Some stupid ploy.”

He settled farther back in his pillows, swallowing hard. “A date.”

“With my luck, I’ll get stood up anyway,” she resigned. “It’s not like—” She took a breath. “You know, I’ve never been—” she trailed off.

She’d never been on a date, not a real one. He’d overheard her talking about it with Josephine and Leliana one night after a meeting. He had been pouring over reports when he heard Josephine ask her about a boyfriend.

“Any one in Ostwick you left behind?” Josephine teased. Cullen peered over the screen of his laptop, watching Gwyn’s cheeks redden.

“No, I’m not…I’ve never—” she stammered, almost dropping the notebook in her arms.

Leliana giggled. “I love when we get the nervous ones. Alistair and Ariadne were like that, remember?” She eyed Cullen, meeting his gaze for a second before turning her head back to Gwyn. “So, you’ve never had a boyfriend?”

“I’ve never been on an actual date,” she admitted, taking a seat. She looked up, a wistful smile on her face. “There was guy back at my old school. Once. Aidan.”

Cullen looked down, his palms sweating the more Leliana glanced over at him.

“Did it not work out?” Josephine asked.

“The short story? No. It was over before it really began.”

They kissed in the depths of the school’s library, she told him she was falling in love with him, and then he disappeared. She never heard from him again. _Just another sad story of abandonment_ , she had told Cullen, forcing a small laugh. He remembered the way she had looked at her feet, the frown that came right after. The first thought he’d had after she retreated to her apartment was that Gwyn was a woman that deserved a good first date. A date worthy of her.

“Gwyn?” he sat up in bed, listening to her steady breathing.

“Yeah?” Her voice was small, quiet.

“He won’t stand you up—chances are, he’s being forced into this by his own parents.”

“That’s comforting.” She laughed, a loud one that made Cullen’s lips curl upward.

He ran a hand through his hair, pausing at the nape of his neck. “If he stands you up, he’s a fool and you’ll be better without.” He waited, hoping she was still smiling.

Her voice cracked, a small laugh spluttering through small tears he hadn’t expected. “You think so?” He closed his eyes at the hopefulness in her voice. The woman who deserved a good first date.

“Without a doubt.”


	5. "Go on."

The morning of the bonfire Cullen woke to the shrill screeches of his alarm, his hand fumbling around for his glasses. With a groan, his hand slammed down on his alarm clock. It was going to be a long day. Without even picking up his phone, he knew there would be a flurry of texts from Gwyn, Josephine, and Leliana.

Twenty seconds, he told himself as he sat on the edge of his bed. You get twenty seconds before you greet the pandemonium _._

Shutting his eyes, he took a deep breath through his nose. _20, 19, 18, 17, 16._ His chest felt tight. The throbbing behind his temple unable to be ignored. He bundled sheets in his fist, clenching his jaw. _You can do this. 15, 14, 13, 12... and 11._

Another breath through his mouth.

_10, 9, 8, 7, 6._

Blue skies. Not red, or thick with smoke. The flowers back at his parent's house. Cupid's dart, not the taste of copper. The walk to the lake, the dirt under his toes. Fresh air. Cool water lapping over his feet.

This was what he needed to remember. Exhaling through his mouth, he counted. _5, 4, 3, 2...and let go._

Rising from his bed, he glanced at his phone. Two messages from Josephine— one asking him to make sure he was picking up the food later, another asking him if could help Bull pick up firewood. Only one from Leliana— _The restaurant is bringing the food. The only thing you have to do is get the firewood today. Don't rush._

Thank the Maker.

He rose to his feet, smiling at the sight of Gwyn's messages.

 **[6:45 AM ] I hope I don't wake you up. If they do— good morning! Today is going to be a great day because Brennan & Dorian have taken Mariana off my hands! **  
**[7:00 AM ] Try to go back to sleep, if you can. (Sorry I bent your ear for so long last night. And right now.)**  
**[7:03 AM ] Anyway, there's food on your table when you get up (Dorian let me in). Don't worry- no matter who texts you- you have time to take your run. I'll be in the quad panicking with Josie. Who knows, you might just hear my screams.**

Gwyn adored Josephine, even admitted to Cullen she admired her. She was sociable— always knew what to say, how to act. Whereas Gwyn, the one who was supposed to be their leader? She cursed too much, stammered when nervous, fidgeted when unsure of herself. She made Josephine's job hard and she knew it. Even if Josephine was kind enough to never say a word, Gwyn trod lightly.

As he pulled on shorts and a shirt, he could imagine Gwyn in the quad— going from person to person to see if they needed help, hands fidgeting if they declined. He could see Josephine standing in the center of the commotion, clipboard in hand as she made phone call after phone call to confirm vendors and scheduling. Pausing her phone conversations only to approach someone and hiss: _that's not where that table goes. That table goes closest to sidewalk._ Leliana and Cassandra were usually the two in charge of picking up anything they'd ordered while Cullen often handled the heavy-lifting— setting up tables, making sure new members were staying busy as they prepared.

He suddenly felt grateful for the phone call that had trailed off into the late hours of the night. It was almost three in the morning when he felt his eyes weighed down by sleep, Gwyn's groggy voice in his ear.

"You should sleep in a bit tomorrow," she yawned.

"You lot need all the help you can get."

He heard her lips, the smile that crept across her face. "We'll be fine. Sleep in."

"Josephine won't be—"

She sighed and he could hear rustling, blankets being pulled close. "Cullen, you've had a headache the last two days and I-well, I just spent the last few hours probably making it worse. Take a break."

"I haven't—"

"Cullen. Please?"

He turned on his side with a groan, pulling his arm under his pillow. When Gwyn's steady breathing filled the silence, he thought that she had fallen asleep.  
"Good night, Gwyn."

She giggled. Soft and lazy.

"Good morning, Cullen." A breath. "Promise you'll get some sleep? Even if it's just a few extra hours."

So he did.

And, Maker, he was grateful.

Before leaving for his run, Cullen's eyes caught a small display on his coffee table. An apple, blueberry muffin, and an empty container. Beside them, a note in her small script.

_I was going to leave you strawberries, then decided to keep them for myself as a snack for later. Sorry! Besides, I wanted to see your face biting into Ostwick's famous strawberries for the first time, so you can't be too angry at me.  
p.s. I think we both know you would've chosen the muffin anyway. Let's not fool ourselves._

She was right. He was a sucker for sweets. Not that he advertised it. Few people knew— Mia (she made the best cookies), Cassandra (caught him eating fudge the last First Day), and Gwyn (who made him try his first Orlesian pastry).

It's one of the reasons he started running again. One.

He started running not long after returning from Kirkwall. Sure, it kept him in shape. But it cleared his head and made him focus on other things as well. The feel of his feet hitting the pavement, the smell of flowers as he passed the garden. Those memories that continued to haunt him could be held at bay a moment longer. Papers he had yet to finish were no longer in the forefront of his mind.

Even on the days Gwyn attempted to run with him, he didn't feel that pressure. She nervously cracked jokes when she paused to catch her breath, kept quiet when she sped up to meet his normal pace. Sometimes their strides would become shorter and shorter until conversation took hold. Mostly about family, sometimes about different restaurants they needed to try. But there were days where talk wasn't necessary.

Outside of Griffon Hall, he could already see the union members working in the distance of the courtyard. Breaking out into a run, he saw lanterns being strewn about the area. Josephine abandoned her clipboard, moving to help some of the other members with the placement of tables. Leliana was sidled up next to someone he didn't know— the movements of her hands becoming more erratic the longer they talked. Probably some unlucky vendor.

He rounded the corner, forcing himself to keep his eyes anywhere else but the courtyard. Gwyn had told him to take a break. Leliana had told him not to rush. It was still morning. He didn't have to help yet. But, Maker help him, the part of his head that wasn't screaming at him _wanted_ to.

While he still had a family at home in Honnleath, the Inquisition easily became another place he called home. Because when he couldn't bring himself to answer Mia's texts, when he didn't want to face them, this lot more than made up for it. They were all there even when he didn't want them to be. He owed them— Leliana, Josephine, and Cassandra— for _so_ much.

Each of them had a burden that weighed heavily on their shoulders, but they were reminders that those burdens did not make them broken.

Puffing out short breaths, he jogged up some the stairs to Warden Union .

Gwyn stood at the top, hair coming loose from her ponytail as she leaned against a column.

She held out a cup, a smile on her face. "Want a drink?"

"Why is it every time I see you, there's always coffee involved?"

"Because it's one of the few sources of bribery I can handle," she said with a grin. "Besides, it's lemonade. Not coffee."

He took it, then gestured to the courtyard. "Aren't you supposed to be helping set up?"

She held up a small bag that she'd been hiding behind her back. "I slipped away to surprise everyone with an early lunch."

His lip twitched as he fought the urge to smile. "No strawberries?"

"Guess you'll have to wait for another time," she shrugged, walking down the steps backward.

He started jogging, giving her a wave. "I'm counting on it."

"I'll see you tonight before my date gets here, right?" she called after him. He turned on his heel for a second, shrugging.

"Since it's mandatory for me to make an appearance, I think it's likely."

She nodded, waving before walking back to the courtyard.

Seconds after he had started back on his jog, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He didn't read it until he got back to his apartment, but the words made him snort.

**[11:36 AM ] You'd come, at the very least just to help, and you know it.**

* * *

 Standing in the garden, surrounded by small paper lanterns that led to the main courtyard, Cullen felt a sting of pride in what the Inquisition was able to pull off. The union's budget consisted of only donations that Josephine and Leliana often dubiously scrounged up from various faculty members, but he could see that Gwyn had been behind most of the decorating decisions.

Everything held the air of extravagance, while remaining completely simple— no doubt the culmination of Gwyn's ability to save money at all costs.

Cassandra walked up beside him, glancing in his direction."What do you think?" she smirked, gesturing to the scene in front of them.

One of the bards on campus stood on a small stage off to the side— Maryden Halewell, a musical genius with a hauntingly beautiful voice. The bonfire, where many of the students were already flocking to, was pushed to the center of the courtyard. Then, on the other side were tables of food— pizzas from that Tevinter restaurant Gwyn had been raving about for weeks. _They call it The Imperial Taste for a reason, Rutherford._

He nodded slowly, fisting his hands in his pockets as he walked with her. "It's...it's really come together, hasn't it?"

"The planning was all Gwyn, you know. The woman may struggle with speeches, but she knows what works," she marveled. Crossing her arms, she looked back at Cullen. "How are you...since?"

"Better?" Cullen mused. He rubbed his neck, "Well, than before, anyway."

"Good." She grew quiet. "It's good to see you coming out to these things, Cullen."

"Cassandra—"

She shrugged. "I'm only saying...it's _good_. Mia would be happy to know..."

"I haven't..." He frowned. He hadn't talked to his sister in the last month. Not since things had started to become difficult again.

"I know," she sighed, taking a step forward. "I should go give Josephine a hand. _You_ should grab a slice of pizza."

He pulled out his phone, frowning.

The last text he had gotten from Mia had been on Monday.

**I just want to know if you're okay. Branson and I are just worried. We love you.  
Answer my phone calls or I'll be visiting you before you know it, baby brother.**

"There you are." Gwyn looked up at him, a nervous smile on her face as she hugged her leather jacket close. Her hair was pulled back into its normal ponytail, her outfit simple. She nudged him gently. "Have you had the pizza yet?"

"I was just thinking about having a piece," he lied, his mouth a hard line.

"Right." Both walked towards the table, waiting in line. Gwyn shifted on her feet, looking down at her clothes. "These are okay first date clothes, aren't they?"

"Excuse me?"

"My date's going to be here in an hour and I just— you know, I don't really know..."

He couldn't stop the laughter building up as he reached for a plate of pizza slices for the both of them. "Are you asking me advice about first dates?"

Gwyn stilled, frowning. "And if I am?" she asked hotly, taking the plate from his hands.

"I'm not an expert, but I don't think you should steal his plate, especially when he was going to share."

Sighing, she handed the plate back and walked with him to the gardens. Plopping on the steps of the gazebo, she looked back at the crowd and shook her head. "I don't know what I'm doing, Cullen."

He took a piece of pizza, snorting. "Does anyone?"

"I'm being serious," she hissed, taking a slice off his plate.

"And suddenly I'm not?"

She shot him a look.

"Okay. Fine," he sighed. "What do you like?"

She swallowed a bite of pizza, "What do you mean?"

"We've been friends for a few months now. Aside from food and watching terrible movies— what do you like?"

Gwyn opened her mouth, pausing as she pushed herself to her feet. She turned to face him, frowning. "I don't—"

"It's a simple question," he told her, narrowing his brow.

"I _know_ , just—give me a moment." She took a breath, walking into the gazebo. She rested against the railing, her mouth in a hard line as her fingers knotted together.

His voice softened as he sidled next to her. "Talk to me about something you like." He nudged her gently, offering an encouraging smile. " Anything."

She was quiet for a moment, her teeth digging into her bottom lip until she looked up. He watched her face soften until the corner of her mouth twitched upwards. Her eyes darted across the sky, the lights of the lanterns reflected in her eyes.

"Do...well, you see that?" She motioned towards a cluster of stars, bright and random. "I know you can't tell from looking at it, but that freckled bit of chaos makes up Equinor. My favorite constellation. I suppose that's a bit ironic, because if you connect all eighteen stars, it looks a bit like a rearing horse. Some books say it's a seated griffon, but honestly I say both of those assumptions are a bit shit."

She alternated between looking down at her fidgeting hands to the sky the longer she talked and Cullen felt a tug in his stomach. Minutes had passed and her voice hadn't wavered once. More than that, in the four months he'd known her...she never looked happier than she did right now.

Her mind was probably racing, he imagined. Overwhelmed with worry and wonder. But the longer she talked, the less her hands fumbled and the more she smiled.

Every word she said felt like she was somehow filling his lungs with air. He listened carefully, taking in each word about Equinor depicting a halla and the subtle Dalish lore that was intrinsically woven within most of the constellations.

But he kept his gaze on Gwyn's face. The wisps of brown hair that fell in front of blue eyes and pale skin. Maker, she was pale— no wonder those freckles peppered her nose and cheeks. Her nose, obviously broken once before. He never asked her about it, but it scrunched when she talked about Thedosian astronomers trying to bury Dalish history.

His eyes fell to her lips, the subtle shape of them as she pronounced _Ghilan'nain_. They were small— slim and pink. When she smiled, she exposed small dimples that made the scar on her jawline wrinkle. The longer he studied her, he felt the corners of his own mouth curl upwards.

"Because of the significance of horses in most Neromenian culture, most books say the bit about Ghilan'nain isn't true, but—" she paused, seeing him smile behind his fist.

She'd talked for ten minutes straight. Maker, she made a right fool of herself in front of her own friend, how could she manage to not do it with someone she'd never met?

Panic washed over her face, her stomach clenching over the inevitable eye roll that was sure to come. How many times had she seen others— even Brennan— roll their eyes? Or heard their groans? Maker, not him too.

He chuckled and Gwyn felt her heart drop until she saw him shake his head.

She looked down at her feet, readying her apology, "Maker, forgive me. I—"

"Go on." His voice was a whisper and Gwyn wasn't sure she heard him right. No one had ever told her that before.

He pointed to another section of sky, a smile spreading over his face. "Which one is that?"

She swallowed thickly, finding her voice. "You _would_ pick that one. Judex, the Sword of Mercy."

Cullen smirked, watching the tension leave her face once more. "Maker, if you don't have him in the palm of your hand after that—"

She laughed, shaking her head. "I was just rambling though, Cullen. Not everyone likes that sort of thing." Her voice lowered, "Not everyone likes _me_."

The next words out of his mouth flopped out with little thought.

"I do."


	6. And He Meant It.

Cullen’s mouth went dry, his hand flying to his neck. What did he just say? Maker’s Breath, what was he thinking? His heart pounded wildly, his eyes lowering to the floor of the gazebo. He gripped the railing tightly when the shrill sound of her phone interrupted his thoughts.

She bumped him playfully with her hip before pulling her phone from her pocket. “Well, not everyone can be Cullen Rutherford,” she noted with a sigh. She scrolled through her phone, tucking her bottom lip behind her teeth. “My date’s running late.” She rocked on her heels. “Apparently Mariana’s bringing him. I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.”

Cullen bristled. It seemed odd that Mariana would accompany her date at all. He watched Gwyn fidget with her hands, frowning.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” She cursed under her breath and glanced over at him. “Let’s just call it a night.”

He snorted, realizing just how serious she was being. “What?”

“Yeah—get some food that’s bad for us? Pastries from that bakery down the road, maybe?” She shifted on her feet, one of her hands twisting the bracelet on her wrist nervously. Always moving. “Sounds good, yeah?”

He blinked, laughing nervously. Maker, it did. He wanted nothing more than to leave and sit in the comfort of his apartment with her. To burst into laughter over the ridiculous movies she always found.

“This whole thing was a mistake, anyway,” Gwyn groaned, shaking her head. She looked up at Cullen. “Let’s just go. We’ll take a box of pizza with us, stop at the bakery to get a few things, and just do something we’d actually enjoy.”

“Gwyn…” He pressed his back against the railing and ran a hand through his hair.

 He wanted to say yes. Maker, did he want to spend more time with her. But it wouldn’t be fair. She was just nervous and overwhelmed. That’s it.  That’s all it was.

“As keen as I am about the idea…you should—”

“I know,” she cut in. “I need to get out, need to have fun. You’re sounding like Brennan,” she said with a short laugh. She settled on the steps of the gazebo, her lips a hard line. “Is it wrong that fun...for me…is watching shitty movies on a Friday night? Or kicking your ass at chess?”

A faint grin washed over his face. Of course it was. He swallowed the feelings that swelled in his chest from her admission.

“I think that you’d have to actually beat me for once to be able to say that,” he murmured.

“Watch it, Rutherford,” she replied, a small smile on her face.

Minutes ticked by, both of them sitting in silence until her eyes fell to her feet. The black flats she often accidentally left behind in his apartment after movie nights or long study sessions. It wasn’t until she shivered and rested her head on his shoulder that Cullen palms began to sweat.

“Cold?” he asked, feeling slightly stupid. Maker’s Breath, of course she was cold. Why else would she be doing this?

But he admired the feel of her body against his. How she leaned into his side with ease, her hair so close to his face that he could smell her soap. He knew she was short—always straining to reach books from the top shelves in the campus library—but she seemed so small when pressed up against him.

“I’ll warm up soon enough,” she sighed, pulling out her phone and checking her messages. She chewed on her lip, typing furiously to Mariana only to pocket her phone once more. Gwyn repeated the action time and time again, her eyes continuously glancing up at the sky like it might give her an answer that her phone could not. Finally, her shoulders drooped.

“My date—he’s not…” she took a breath, squeezing her eyes shut. She looked up at Cullen, her lips a hard line. “He’s not coming, is he?”

He didn’t know what to say. What could he say?

“We could...” he cleared his throat, frowning. “We could wait ten minutes. If they don’t show up in ten minutes—we’ll get the pizza, the pastries—whatever you want.”

She lifted her head slightly to meet his gaze, the corner of her lip twitching. “Ten minutes?”

“Ten minutes,” he repeated.  

The first five, they sat in silence. Gwyn’s head still resting on his shoulder, her body turned towards him to keep warm. His heart pounding in his ears, Cullen tried to keep his mind on something. Anything other than the fact she had linked her arm around his, pulling him close. Definitely not the fact her knee was brushing against his.

“Cullen?”

His head jerked up.

“Yes?”

“I asked you how assisting in that introduction to psych course was going.”

“O-oh, right.” He glanced at his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s going well, I think.”

“And the girls?”

“Girls?” he spluttered, his face growing hot.

She batted at his arm, snorting. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve seen the looks they give you!”

“It’s nothing,” he countered.

“Of course not,” she responded dryly, a smirk playing on the corner of her lips. “You have to admit it’s cute—all those girls flocking after you.”

“It’s a headache,” Cullen muttered. It was the truth. Years ago, it was less frustrating. It was easy to give in, humoring the idea of a relationship with a girl only to have it end in a night of meaningless sex. But not anymore, certainly not _now_.

“I’m only joking, Rutherford,” she grinned, looking back up at the sky. Her smile faded, her voice small. “Has it been ten minutes yet?”

“Three more to—”

“Are you Gwyneth? Gwyneth Trevelyan?”

The voice behind them caused both Cullen and Gwyn to spring to their feet. A tall and broad-shouldered man with black hair pulled back stood before them, a smile on his face. He leaned forward, removing his hands from the pocket of his slacks.

“Garrick,” he said warmly, extending his hand. “I apologize for my lateness, but I believe you’ve been waiting for me?”

Gwyn released Cullen’s arm nervously, her hand trembling as she took the stranger’s. “ _Gwyn_ Trevelyan,” she corrected lightly.

“And you?” He held out his hand towards Cullen, waiting patiently.

“This is my friend, Cullen. He’s a senior advisor of the Inquisition,” she explained.

“Nice to _finally_ meet you,” Cullen said gruffly, reluctantly shaking Garrick’s hand.

“Well,” Garrick sighed, looking between the two and smiling. “Shall we?”

“Right.” Gwyn’s hands knotted before Cullen flashed a warm smile.

“Have a nice night, Gwyn.”

“Thanks.” It came out in a whisper. “I’ll text you later?”

“Of course.” She was already starting to walk away with her date, Garrick’s hand on the small of her back as she cast a nervous look back at Cullen. “Uh, don’t forget about Equinor. Or…” he trailed off, groaning as she offered him a small smile.

 _Thank you_ , she mouthed, waving in his direction and leaving him conflicted. Never had he wanted a date to succeed and fail so badly at the same time.

* * *

 

Gwyn walked with Garrick arm in arm, doing her best to keep her hands from shaking. Maker, if he didn’t know how nervous she was before, he did now.

“So, Mariana told me you’re studying to become a doctor,” Gwyn noted, keeping her eyes on her feet. She hoped he hadn’t noticed how much her voice wavered.

“Yes, I’m starting my first year of medical school,” he explained.

“Sounds like a lot of pressure.”

There was an awkward silence between them as they walked and Gwyn’s heart pounded with every step. She fumbled with her words, trying to think of new questions. They’d already talked about his family—old Fereldan money that built its empire on a distillery. They’d talked about his schooling—the University of Dumat, naturally— _much more refined than Skyhold,_ he explained.

 He hadn’t asked her a single question about herself.

“What exactly does your sister do?” Garrick asked, breaking the silence.

Gwyn’s heart dropped. “Mar-Mariana?”

“Yes. She certainly knows a lot about the world,” he noted. Gwyn blinked, chewing on her lip nervously.

“I...she—” The sound of Gwyn’s phone going off was her sweet release, and she fished it out of her jacket pocket immediately. “Forgive me, one moment.”

Cullen’s name appeared on the screen, a text:

**[11:24 pm] I’m going home for the night—Brennan says he’s staying with us and I believe your sister is planning on going back to Ostwick. Give me a call in the morning. Deep breaths and good luck.**

She smiled at the words before pocketing her phone. Mariana wasn’t going to hijack this date without even being here. She was going to impress this man and he was going to like it. He was going to like her, dammit. What was it Cullen had said? _Maker, if you don't have him in the palm of your hand after that._ She turned around to face Garrick, taking a deep breath.

“Do you see that constellation up there?”

* * *

 

It was well past midnight by the time Cullen had finally retreated into his bedroom. He tugged his shirt off, throwing it in a corner of the room before pulling out his cell phone. He wanted to text her again, wanted to check in with how everything was going. Instead, he fell back onto his mattress and frowned.

He shouldn’t want her date to fail. Guilt settled over him, and he reached for his phone once more. His finger hovered over her contact picture—one she’d taken during an Inquisition meeting. She had wanted to take a photo of the both of them together, but he’d ducked out at the last minute, leaving the photo of only her in mid-laugh. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her mouth wide open, and her head already beginning to fall back. It was one of two photos he had of her on his phone.

The other he’d taken days after she saw the first. They’d been sitting on his bed, studying, when she’d started flipping through his pictures on his phone. He didn’t have very many—a few of his family, a couple of ambitious misspellings of his name on coffee cups that’d he sent to Gwyn to make her laugh, a few photos of the Union last year, a couple pictures of Ariadne Cousland’s mabari hound.

Gwyn snorted as soon as she came across the photo of her. “Well that photo looks fucking awful. You have to change it.”

“That’s the only picture I have of you,” he shrugged.

“Well, that needs to be fixed.” She handed him his phone and turned to face him. “Alrighty, Rutherford. Get my good side.”

She grinned for a few seconds—a wide smile with big eyes. It was a nice pose and she looked lovely. But it was just that, a pose. He waited a couple seconds. “Got it,” he lied.

He snapped the picture as soon she looked down at her schoolwork. Her fingers tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ears, a closed-mouthed smile on her lips that showed her dimples better. Her eyes weren’t shut, but half-lidded—he could see her eye lashes better while still being able to see the deep shade of blue.

“So?” She glanced up at him, smiling broadly. “Please tell me that one’s better!”

“It’s, uh,” he glanced down at it once more. She looked beautiful. “It’s a keeper.”

She never asked to look at it—just continued to take notes, humming all the while.

He stared at her photo now, his fingers hovering over the message icon. She was on a date—she hadn’t even replied to his first message. The last thing she probably wanted was for him to be texting her. He shouldn’t.

He set his phone on the nightstand, taking off his glasses before turning out the light and rolling onto his stomach. He wondered how the date was going.

Was Garrick holding her hand? Was he being charming—Maker, of course he was. He wondered if Gwyn would kiss him, wondered if Garrick was the type of guy that wanted to take a girl home on the first date. Whatever they did, he hoped Garrick was kind. Gwyn deserved that, at the very least.

He tucked his arm underneath his pillow when he heard the front door of the apartment open. Dorian and Brennan were probably stumbling back in from the party. He buried his face halfway in his pillow, waiting for their raucous laughter and usual stumbling as they made their way to Dorian’s room. Instead, a slant of light filled his bedroom.

Cullen groaned into his pillow. “Dorian—how many times…” he looked up, his eyes adjusting to the small shadow in the doorway. “Gwyn? Wh—what are you doing here?”

She draped her jacket over the back of his chair, throwing her phone until it skittered across the surface and dropped to the floor. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she murmured.

“Okay.” She kicked off her flats and slid into bed next to him. Her back brushed against his hip and her hair splayed across his extra pillow. Despite the fact Cullen could feel the warmth radiating from her body, she tugged his blankets over her shoulder.

“Cullen?” She sounded faraway.

Maker, she was so close to him. “Yes?”

She worried her lip, rolling over in his bed to finally meet his gaze. Her eyes looked tired, her cheeks red from crying. “I…guess it takes a lot more to get a guy interested,” she whispered. She frowned, taking Cullen by surprise when she suddenly pulled herself into his chest. One of her arms wrapped around his body, her hand warm on the bare skin of his back.

She forced a small laugh, her voice muffled against his skin. “He fucking asked me about Mariana.”

“What?” He was caught off guard by everything. The smell of her hair against his face—strawberry soap—the heat of her breath against his skin. The feeling of her lips brushing his chest when she spoke.

Gwyn scooted up in his bed to meet his gaze, but Cullen couldn’t help but notice that her right hand remained on his side. “He just kept talking about himself—Maker, I think I learned everything there is to know about him,” she snorted.  “His favorite food? His mother’s pasta. His favorite color—gold. By the way, in case you wondered, he despises the majority of his medical courses, but loves the surgical labs.”

Cullen watched her bury her face in her pillow, a muffled scream filling the room. “And then,” she breathed, “when I finally mustered up the courage to talk about myself- about my interests- he _interrupted_ me to ask about Mariana. I _wish_ I were making this up.”

“He’s a complete fool,” Cullen said softly.

Gwyn scoffed and Cullen missed the feel of her hand when she moved it wipe tears from her cheek. “ _I’m_ the fool,” she groaned. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“That’s not true,” he murmured. He moved to cup her cheek only to realize it felt too intrusive. Instead, his fingers formed a fist against his mattress. He swallowed hard. “The pizza tonight was good. We should order from them again sometime.”

A warm smile washed over her lips and she wrapped her arms around him tightly. Her fingers were in his hair, entangling themselves in the loose curls at the nape of his neck. “Thank you.”

She rolled over, pulling his arm around her. Sighing happily, her back pressed against his body. “Maker, I’ll never get any sleep at this rate.”

“Here,” he whispered. He almost stopped himself, almost convinced him otherwise. _Don’t_ , a voice hissed in the back of his mind, but his heart dared him to keep going.

His hand touched the base of her spine over the material of her shirt, and he half-expected her to flinch in response. Instead, her fingers intertwined with the hand wrapped around her and a happy sigh fell from her lips. He traced lines up and down the length of her back, light touches here and there. He traced his name diagonally, wondering if she’d notice. When she didn’t, he moved to the nape of her neck and she breathed out a soft _moan_.

Maker, he hadn’t expected _that_.

“Have I ever told you that I love you, Cullen Rutherford?” Gwyn murmured, her voice heavy as she chased after sleep.

His fingertips froze in place in the middle of her back, the words causing his heart to pound wildly in his chest. She didn’t mean it _that_ way, of course. But he closed his eyes and tried to ignore the feeling in the pit of his stomach when the curve of her bottom brushed against his hips.

He listened to her soft sighs as she drifted off to sleep, her chest rising and falling under his arm. He took a breath, his nostrils filling with the mixed scent of her skin and hair.

“I love you too.”

And he meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to thank you beautiful folks for being so, so patient with this chapter update. It's been a rough last few weeks in general and I'm really grateful for you fine folks. c:
> 
> Just you folks wait until you get your hands on the next chapter. Bwahahaha.


	7. "A Private Moment"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is NSFW and contains sexual content.

When Cullen opened his eyes, the first thing he realized was that Gwyn drooled. He wasn’t sure when it happened, but one of his arms was caught under her neck. Her hand held onto his, squeezing his fingers tightly. Her body was warm-almost too warm- as her back pressed against his chest. He was all too aware how the curve of her bottom molded against his hips, and even more aware of just how much Gwyn moved in her sleep.

It started out subtle. Gwyn nuzzled his arm, her cheek rubbing against the skin of his bicep until he felt her lips brush the inside of his elbow. He stilled at the feeling of her breath hot against his flesh every time she sighed contentedly in her sleep, and smiled at the fruity smell of her soap that lingered in her hair.  Cullen’s eyes squeezed shut and he swallowed audibly when she shifted her hips, her backside accidentally grazing his pelvis.

“Gwyn,” he gasped out, trying to ignore the feeling stirring beneath his sweatpants. She whined softly, nuzzling the inside of his arm once more and leaving Cullen helpless. He had never considered what it would be like to wake Gwyn up at all, much less with her in the same bed as him. Cullen licked his lips, gently moving to get a better look at her face.

Strands of hair fell in front of her cheeks, but he could see how her makeup had smudged slightly in the corner of her left eye. Her mouth hung open, lips partially pressed against his forearm as she continued to drool there. He considered not waking her at all—just allowing the two of them to exist in this bubble separate from the world outside his dorm.

But this bubble didn’t really exist—couldn’t exist. Not really.

“Gwyn.” He said it louder and she shifted beside him, eyes fluttering open. That startling blue. Maker, even half-hooded, those eyes were something else. She turned her head, wiping her mouth with the palm of her hand until her eyes found his. Her lips curled into a half-smile.

His heart tugged at that look, the soft edges of her mouth.

“G’mornin’ you,” Gwyn rasped.

“Morning,” he repeated, focused on the fact she hadn’t let go of his hand yet. Her nails were short, her fingers not laced with his but simply curled into his palm. He wondered what it’d be like to feel her fingers on his chest, clutching. Or raking. Maker, what would it be like have those hands in his hair? He pushed the thought away quickly, still aware of just how close she was to his body. “Did you...would you like to get breakfast together? Coffee, maybe?” he asked.

“What time is it?” she groaned, her hand still holding his as she rolled over to face him.

“Uhhh,” he glanced over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of his clock. “10:34.”

“What?” she let go of his hand, sitting up.

“Something wrong?”

Gwyn slid out of bed, eyes scouring the floor before looking up to cast a frown in his direction. “Josephine’s going to kill me. I was supposed to help her tear everything down earlier this morning.” She fumbled with her flats, almost falling as she tried to slip them back on. He sat up in his bed, watching as she pulled on her jacket and flashed a small smile in his direction. “Thanks for letting me barge into your room last night, Cullen. Sorry for hogging the blankets.”

But she hadn’t. Not that he would’ve cared if she had.

“No problem,” he murmured, hoping she didn’t notice the way he had adjusted the blankets over his lap as he reached for his glasses. “Anytime.”

He froze when she climbed back onto his bed, wrapping her arms around him tightly. “Thank you. Maker knows what I’d do without you.”

Her nose grazed his cheek, her lips brushing against the same flesh. It was quick. Soft and warm. He almost missed it. Did he imagine it? Did she really just--?

“You’ll text me later, right?” she asked, crawling off his bed and preparing to leave.

“Of course,” he mumbled, still stunned. His cheek burned from the lingering sensation of her lips.

“You owe me a date after all!” she called out, waving before disappearing out his bedroom door.

At the sound of his apartment door shutting behind Gwyn, Cullen fell back onto his mattress, groaning loudly. Rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands, he tried to ignore the twitching of his arousal beneath his sweatpants, tried to push the thought of her away. He knew better. They were just friends, he reminded himself. Just. Friends.

She was the woman who bought him soup when he had a headache, who texted him book recommendations after finding out he was an avid reader. Gwyn was the friend that came to his apartment well past midnight panicking over an exam or a paper she was struggling with. The friend that was always just _there_. She came without asking, setting up shop in his room to help him study for any psychology exam he had. Regardless of whether he told her about them or not.

But she was also the woman that held his hand without thought. Soft, lithe fingers finding his palm. She was _warm._ Maker, he could still feel the heat radiating from her side of the bed. She had just been there, in his bed. Body curled towards him, face buried in his chest at one point. Her hands had roamed around his body in the middle of the night to pull him closer and he obliged every step of the way, afraid he couldn’t get close enough.

His arousal only hardened further, awkwardly straining against the material of his boxers and pants. He stared up at the ceiling through his fingers, trying to concentrate enough to count the number of tiles.

Frowning, his hands fell to his side. How could he concentrate on anything now that he knew what it felt like to be pressed against her, how her legs tangled so easily with his own? How could he just push away the feeling of her wrapping his arms around her?

Gwyn.

His hand inched underneath the waistband of his sweats before it snapped back to the mattress. Stop, he chided himself. He shouldn’t be doing this. She was his _friend_ and clearly she wasn’t interested in him in that capacity. But she showed up in _his_ room the night before. She could have easily stayed out longer with Garrick, could have gone back to her own apartment, but she chose his dorm. She chose to climb into bed _with_ him when she could have slept on the couch like before.

His erection throbbed underneath his pants, his breathing heavy as he started counting the tiles once more. Running a hand through his hair, he gritted his teeth at the ache between his legs practically pleading for some kind of friction. He wasn’t a teenager hiding out in the bedroom of his childhood home. He had more self-control than that, or at least he thought he did. Maker, when was the last time he’d brought himself pleasure? Months? He could barely remember-- the relentless urge to deal with the ache thrumming there had never been something in the forefront of his mind.

Once wouldn’t hurt. He could do it. Do it and _not_ think about her. Just once.

His jaw tightened as he caved in-- lifting his hips and hooking his thumbs under the waistband of his briefs. Tugging the material off his hips, Cullen hissed loudly as his erection sprang free and fell against his navel. His cock twitched against his stomach, begging for some kind of contact other than the cool air. He wrapped his fingers around himself, sighing as he stroked his length.

It only took seconds before he thought about her back pressed against him, how he had traced her spine with the tips of his fingers and, Maker, how she actually _moaned_ at his touch. The sound of her contented sighs. She’d liked his touch, welcomed it, even. She didn’t even flinch.

He swiped the bit of precum off his crown with his thumb, sliding it down the length of his cock. Keeping each stroke slow, he squeezed his eyes shut. He thought of her hands-- small and soft lightly running over his muscles, raking over his skin. He exhaled, still thinking of Gwyn’s body warm against him-- the idea of _her_ fingers twisting around the head of his cock instead of his own.

“Fuck,” he groaned, beginning to stroke himself harder. He tightened his grip, squeezing himself every time he involuntarily bucked into his hand.  

Her smile slipped its way into his head-- how her tongue lifted when she said his name. Oh, Maker-- the idea of her tongue on _him._ The warmth of her lips as she kissed and licked the crown of his cock, flicking her tongue against his slit. The thought of her on her knees, bright blue eyes looking up at him in adoration while her nails raked over his thighs. Cullen couldn’t stop the moan that slipped from his lips at the idea of her mouth coming off of him with an obscene pop.

Her name was there, already forming on his lips when he caught himself. No. He couldn’t. Someone else-- not her. Not her smile, eyes, or lips.

On a whim, he made a grab for the pillow she used, rolling over on top of it. Maker, it still _smelled_ like her. Strawberries. Even her perfume was still fresh on his sheets. The blankets were warm still and the thought of her body snaked back into his mind. Her hips and how they’d brushed against his cock. Had she known what she was doing then? Did she realize what she’d done?

His hips twitched against the mattress, a groan slipping from his lips the more his cock rocked between the pillow and the sheets. He pressed his palms into the mattress, giving himself space as he ground his hips. Another groan left him at the sensation of him rubbing against the pillow and he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be buried between her thighs? To fill every inch of her?

Maker, he wanted to worship her-- to kiss every inch of her skin and feel what it would be like lose himself inside of her. To have her name washing over his lips every time she rolled her hips against him.

“Gw-”

He stopped himself once more, his arms buckling as he took a section of his sheets into his mouth. His grinding became desperate, his moans turning into whimpers the faster his hips worked.

Not her name. Not like this.

He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, chewing on it to stop the temptation to say it aloud. He thought of her voice the harder he thrust against the mattress. The way she had moaned at the slight touch of his fingers at the base of her neck. His chest tightened at the thought of her moaning at a touch more intimate than a back rub.

Hands lying flat on his mattress once more, he kept his rhythm going. His breathing grew more erratic with every thought that filled his mind. He wanted her to let him taste her-- to feel her thighs squeeze against his head as she gasped out his name. Her hands tugging at his hair because she needed to feel _him_ inside of her. Her body completely bare before him-- his eyes scanning every inch of her body until he could sink in her dripping sex.  

The muscles in his back tensed and he didn’t bother stifling his gasps of pleasure this time. He thought of holding Gwyn in his arms as she whispered his name. _Cullen_. The way her voice softened every time she said it. What would be like to hear her telling him she loved him, _really_ loved him? _Cullen._

Maker, her voice. It was so clear in his mind, so perfect.

“Gwyn!” he choked out, burying his face back into the sheets as he bucked into the warmth of the pillow. Groaning loudly, practically every muscle in his body tensed as he started to come. He squeezed his eyes shut, his body giving out as raw pleasure shot through him. His hips jerked further into his sheets, hot spurts of seed spilling themselves over the material until he collapsed.

Rolling over onto his back and panting breathlessly, he covered his face with a hand. What had he just done? Friends didn’t do this. Gwyn should have been the one person he could look at without something like this happening. Maker’s breath, how was he going to look her in the face after this?

Raking a hand through sweat-soaked curls, Cullen sighed deeply. This was a mistake. A horrible one he couldn’t let happen again.

He looked up at his ceiling, frowning. Gwyn’s voice was still in his head. _Have I ever told you that I love you, Cullen Rutherford?_ He could stand to hear it a few more times. Every day and in any way-- whispered in the quiet, in between breathless laughter, moaned into his ear.

He swallowed hard, pushing and locking those thoughts away once more. Fuck, he was in trouble.

 

* * *

Gwyn walked across campus, eyes on the sidewalk as she weaved past student after student. She tried to catch her breath, each one harder to take than the last the more she moved. She pressed her palms into her eyes, groaning.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck._ What did she just do?

Like some kind of fool, she called out his name before she realized what was happening. She forgot her phone-- forgot that it had fallen behind his desk when she threw it the night before and barged into his apartment as if it were her own.

Yet, as soon as she got past the living room, she’d heard him. Cullen. Moaning. The sound of his university-issued bed creaking with every movement. Maker’s breath, she even _saw_ him--hands pressed into his mattress, muscles in his back rippling. His hips rolling forward.

What if he heard her? Or saw her? Why did she look through the door? Why? Who did that sort of thing?

She stepped off the sidewalk, sinking down into the grass. Cullen was her friend--a damn good one, at that. He was supportive in ways she hadn’t expected from anyone. Yet she repaid his kindness by...what? Bursting into his apartment during a private moment? More than that, she _watched_. She knew what was happening and still looked, still listened. At least for a couple seconds before she high-tailed it out of Griffon Hall.

 “Well, well-- look who decided to show her face. If you and Cullen were ever planning on giving us a hand with the clean-up, you needn’t bother. I swear no one checks their phones these days,” a voice rang out in front of her. Dorian-- with Brennan at his side, arms wrapped around his waist. Her brother’s brow narrowed as they got closer.

“What happened? Was it your date?” he asked, frowning.

“I...I think I need a fucking drink.”

“It’s not even noon yet, Gwyn,” Brennan said flatly.  

Dorian’s eyes practically glittered. “I can help with that.”

“Dorian, no. This is a terrible idea,” Brennan moaned.

“I think being a connoisseur of terrible ideas has worked out rather well for me this far,” Dorian noted, grinning.

Gwyn nodded fervently. “See? This is why Dorian was my friend before he was yours.”

“That’s debatable,” Brennan mumbled.

“I’ve got some things hidden away in my dorm, if you want to--”

“No!” Gwyn shouted, cutting him off. Dorian raised his eyebrow. “I just mean-- Cullen...he’s probably sleeping. He, uh, had a late night.”

“Did he?” Brennan smirked. “With, uh, who might I ask? Orlesian freshman? Maker knows that man needs to get laid sooner rather than later.”

A sting of annoyance bristled under Gwyn’s skin. “He’s tired,” she noted shrilly. Except he wasn’t. She thought of Cullen’s hips rolling against his mattress, her cheeks darkening by the second. “He’s probably sleeping,” she repeated.

“Alright, alright,” Brennan grinned. “All I’m saying is that your friend could use someone to loosen him up a bit in more ways than one.”

“He used to be quite the ladies’ man last year,” Dorian noted with a grin. “It’s not outside the realm of possibility he took someone home last night. Maker knows I’ve been encouraging him to find someone.”

“Are you two quite done discussing Cullen’s private life?” Gwyn hissed.

Brennan raised his brow, staring at Gwyn in silence as he pursed his lips. “Touchy. Sure. Of course.” He glanced over at Dorian. “The bar downtown?”

“Naturally.”

 

* * *

Two drinks later, Gwyn laid her head on the table.

“I’m _such_ an idiot.”

“For what, my dearest friend?” Dorian asked.

“Mariana’s a bitch,” Brennan interrupted, shaking his head. “Honestly, I don’t know how we expected anything less from her when she said she was visiting.”

“That’s not what I was talking about, but that too,” she groaned, fingers circling the rim of her glass. “Am I bad friend?”

Dorian snorted. “What?”

“Where is this coming from?” Brennan asked.

“I think I may be a bad friend,” Gwyn resigned, pulling at Brennan’s shot glass. He grabbed it out of her hands, shaking his head.

“This is bloody ridiculous,” her brother sighed. “What are you going on about?”

“Cullen? Cullen is a good friend,” she mumbled.

Brennan sighed, nudging Dorian gently. “Could I have a moment with my dearly drunken sister?”

“Of course. I’ll just get us another round.”

“What’s all this about, Gwyn?” Brennan hissed. “You don’t drink. Not like this.”

“I’m just living my life, Bren! Like you said.” Gwyn muttered, frowning. “Living life is awful.”

“Feeling sorry for yourself or whatever this is, isn’t what I meant, Gwyn.”

“What did you mean, Bren? Getting laid? Because that’s clearly not happening. I can’t even get someone to enjoy one date with me.”

“Because you’re so scared to put yourself out there!” Brennan hissed.

“Because why would anyone want me?” she snapped back. She glanced out the window, quick to wipe away the tears forming. “Sorry, I just...this isn’t even what I was upset about,” she groaned, shaking her head.

“About being a bad friend? You’re joking, right?” he snorted. “You’re one of the most selfless people I know.”

“You don’t know--”

“Whatever it is, you’ll find a way to apologize for it. That’s just the way you are.”

Gwyn grew quiet for a moment, chewing on her lip nervously. Could she admit what she’d seen to Cullen? A private moment like that? Maybe she could just pretend she never saw? Could she do that? Could she even look him in the eye after that? She wasn’t used to having a friend like him-- was that something people forgave each other for?

She opened her mouth to ask when she saw her brother glancing over at Dorian at the bar. A soft smile broke across her brother’s face the longer he looked until Gwyn leaned forward.

“You’re taken with him, aren’t you?” she whispered. Brennan’s eyes drifted back to Gwyn.

“Took you long enough to catch on to that, did you?”

“I’m happy for you,” she said softly, part of her envious. Her fingers traced over the scar of her jawline, and she frowned. What was it about her that chased some people off? The scar on her face? Her personality? Meanwhile, it never took Brennan long to find someone.

But he had different worries. The Trevelyans were expected to behave a certain way, were expected to marry a certain caliber. She worried her bottom lip, the question hovering in the back of her mind.

“Father more or less already knows,” he answered for her, glancing down at his glass. “Mother dearest doesn’t. Though I imagine our Mariana will do her damndest to change that.”

Gwyn reached out to for his hand, squeezing it. “You don’t let them take this from you, Bren.”

He smiled sadly. “I could say the same to you, y’know.”

She laughed softly, eyes dropping. “I’d have to find something for them to ruin first, Brennan.”

He squeezed her hands once more. “You, Gwyn. Don’t let them ruin you.”

 

* * *

Later that afternoon, she knocked on Cullen’s door, awkwardly shifting on her heels. What if he answered? Maker, what if he didn’t? She hadn’t prepared for that.

But the door swung open and Cullen’s eyes immediately darted to his room. “Gwyn.” He ran a hand through his hair, his face reddening. “What can I do for you?”

She glanced at him—grateful that he was wearing a Skyhold University shirt and his jeans. Grateful that she couldn’t see a centimeter of skin. “Are we okay?” she asked nervously, looking down at the ground.

“What?” He seemed nervous, eyes glancing everywhere but her.

“Our friendship? I didn’t…did I complicate things?” she asked, wondering if he was catching on.

Cullen froze, his jaw slackening. “A-all you did was sleep in my bed.”

“I…yes.” Her fingers knotted together furiously. So he didn’t know. “Was that...should I not have?”

“It was…” he stammered. “It was fine. I mean, after all, nothing happened.”

She glanced down, nodding. She didn’t see him practically naked. She never saw his hips rocking into his mattress. Not to mention that a part of her had…maybe _enjoyed_ it? “Right. Nothing happened.”

“Was that…was it a problem for you?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No!” She said a little too quickly. She looked up at him, balling her hands in the pockets of her coat. “I just… I just wanted to make sure I hadn’t done anything to jeopardize our friendship. I…” she frowned. “You’re a good friend and I want to keep it that way.”

Cullen swallowed hard. “Right. Of course.”

She took a step backwards, nodding across the hall towards her dorm. “I just…I wanted to make sure we were okay.”

“Gwyn?”

“Yeah?”

“You could…” he rubbed the back of his neck once more, hoping the movement might coax his question out. “You should know that you can stay with me any time you want.”

A smile tugged at her lips. “You asking me to stay the night, Rutherford?”

“If you want, I mean--- you don’t have to. You can sleep on the couch again if you wanted.”

“Would you get me coffee in the morning if I promise not to steal the blankets?” she grinned.

His face softened, his lips curling into a smile. Maker, he would do whatever she asked if she let him. “I could.”

She leaned against his door frame, a coy smile on her lips that made Cullen’s heart pound. “Let me beat you at a game of chess?”

A low chuckle escaped his lips and he shook his head. “I believe that’s where I draw the line in our friendship.”

She laughed as she finally passed the threshold of his apartment and the sound was so warm Cullen wanted to live in it. She shrugged off her jacket, walked across the room, and bent down to check the contents of his fridge, his eyes following her all the while. Her jeans hung low on her waist and he could see a small span of skin between her shirt and the black material of her underwear. His hand flew to his neck and he cleared his throat as he forced himself to look anywhere but at her.

“Cullen?” He thought of that morning and the way he’d imagined her saying his name, the way he wished she wished she returned those feelings, the way he’d found pleasure in it, and felt his face redden. “Cullen,” she repeated, louder.

He glanced up to see her standing in front of him, a small smile on her lips. He had imagined her lips soft on his skin, had found release in thinking of them whispering in his ear. He could push those feelings away, could bottle them up and ignore them. Like she said, she didn’t want to complicate things. Didn’t want to ruin their friendships. Clearing his throat, he found his voice. “Yes?”

“I don’t know how often I tell you this, maybe more than I think. Maybe not enough,” she fumbled with two bottles of beer in her hands before finally holding one out to him.

He twisted the cap off, taking a quick swig before Gwyn took him by surprise. She leaned in, wrapping her arms around his neck as she hugged him. He could feel her breath on his skin, could taste the soap in her hair. His stomach flopped when she turned her head to press her lips to his cheek. It was quick, but her lips were wet and every fiber of his being was screaming at him to turn his head and cover her mouth with his own.

But she let go, a small smile on her face. “Thanks for being a good friend, a better one than I deserve,” she whispered. She nodded towards his bedroom, taking a sip from her beer. “I’ll ready the board.”

Cullen’s jaw tightened the second he realized he was watching her hips sway. She was wrong about him. He was the one complicating things—unable to bury his feelings, unable to box them away. He was the person who had the self-control of a mindless teenager. He’d never been like this before. Sure, he had sex more than a few times with underclassmen. But that was different, that was before. Then, it felt harmless.

He took another drink of his beer as Gwyn bent to retrieve his chess board, cursing himself when his gaze fell to the curve of her ass.

Damn. Exactly how long could he manage to keep this up?


	8. Ideas

Cullen talked in his sleep. It happened every few minutes, his brow furrowing as his arms pulled her into a tighter embrace. His fingers searched for hers, his cheek pressed against her shoulder blade. Even long after Gwyn woke up and emptied the contents of her schoolwork on his bed, his body rolled closer, his arms wrapping around her waist. From time to time, he whispered names she did and didn’t recognize—once or twice, even murmuring hers.

“Right here, Rutherford,” she whispered, casting a sad look in his direction before returning to her schoolwork. She wondered how often it happened. Was it a nightly occurrence? She knew he never slept well on the nights he had headaches—usually resorting to texting her while he worked on homework until one or both of them finally nodded off.

She never talked to him about her own troubles with sleeping. In all fairness, she wasn’t sure if he already knew. Maybe he was just nice enough not to bring it up in the same way she never forced him to talk about his own struggles. It was this unspoken rule that was easily one of the better things about their friendship. No prying, no pushing. Not until they were ready, anyway.

She glanced over at Cullen, watching his chest heave with soft breaths. Aside from the talking, he was rather quiet in his sleep. Sometimes when she saw Cullen like this—reserved and at his most vulnerable, she sometimes forgot about the Cullen that appeared at council meetings. The Cullen that could hold a permanent scowl and detested the amount of planning that went into parties he rarely attended.

Yet this was the same Cullen that joked with her during a game of chess. Even last night, he teased her about her technique, the corners of his eyes crinkling at every one of her blunders just before a laugh filled the room.

Gwyn liked the way Cullen laughed. Each time it happened, it was as if he was forgetting himself for a few minutes as this wonderful rumble built up in his chest. She caught it every so often—the slow lifting of his brow, his mouth curling up into a wide grin, and a low chuckle leaving his lips. Sometimes his eyes shut or he’d throw his head back the harder he laughed. It was rare—mostly happening when the two were alone. But, Maker, was it a nice sound.

“Maker, no.” Cullen’s voice sounded strained as he rolled away from Gwyn. She looked over at him, sweat already forming on his brow as his face tensed up. His hands trembled as more names she didn’t know tumbled from his lips.

“Cullen?”  Her heart sank the longer she watched him toss and turn. She considered waking him. Perhaps nudging him gently? No, she probably shouldn’t—wasn’t there something about not waking people from nightmares? Shit.

Cullen mumbled under his breath, rolling back towards Gwyn. “Leave me! Help the others! I said, leave—”

“Cullen.”

He woke with a sharp gasp, his chest heaving as his eyes darted around the room.  “Gwyn.” His eyes widened, his breathing still labored. He reached for her hand, covering it with his own as he fought to catch his breath. “Maker, I didn’t—did I hurt you?”

She shook her head, a small smile on her face. “I’m more concerned about you. Are _you_ alright?”

“I don’t… They only happen sometimes, I assure you.” He closed his eyes, squeezing her hand. Hurting or frightening her in some way was the last thing he wanted to do. “I’m sorry if I worried you,” he admitted, his voice hollow.

“No need to apologize,” she replied warmly. “Besides, you know me. I never worry,” she added with a wink. She squeezed his hand gently before suddenly pushing the books out of her lap. “C’mere.”

“What?”

She settled her back against his headboard. “Rest in my lap for a moment.”

“It’s really not necessary,” he spluttered, rolling on his side.

“Humor me for a moment?” She waited—one second, then three more. It was hard to say no to her when she was smiling over at him—hair pulled back in a messy bun and eyes warm. “Please?”

Sighing, he nestled his head in the folded legs of her lap and looked up at her as she tossed her notebooks over the side of the bed. She glanced back down at him, grinning. “Don’t worry. I, uh, just want to try something.”

Little by little, she began to rake her fingers through his hair. Her fingers started at the hair near his brow—slow, gentle strokes just before lengthening each movement. Breathing hard through his nose, he watched her every movement as her fingers ran through the loose curls behind the shell of his ear. Unblinking, soft eyes met his own and it would be a lie to say it wasn’t already calming him.

“This okay?” she asked softly, her fingers raking through his hair towards back of his head. He swallowed hard in response, nodding slowly. “Close your eyes for a minute.”

“Gwyn, I’m fine. Really—”

“Just trust me,” she murmured, smirking. Eyelids slowly shutting, he could feel her fingers now adding various amounts of pressure to his scalp. “Take three deep breaths for me—in through your mouth and out through your nose.”

Sighing, he obeyed.  Each breath easier to take than the last, the tension in his brow slowly disappearing the more she massaged at his scalp. He almost swore he heard her humming above him—he couldn’t place the tune. Her fingers smoothed hair behind his ears then gently moved to the base of his neck.

“Picture where you want to be most in the world.” Her voice was gentle, her fingers still raking through his sleep-mussed hair. He didn’t have to open his eyes to know she was smiling above him and waiting for his usual resistance. Instead, he took another breath, trying to focus on the gentle lilt in Gwyn’s voice. “Maybe it’s Honnleath. You’re standing in a field—” she paused, laughing a little as she leaned forward, her breath next to his ear. “There’s fields in Honnleath, right?”

She must have seen the smirk creeping on his lips because the next thing he felt was the playful shove of her hand. “Damn you, Rutherford!”

His eyes shot open to see her crossing her arms above him, her mouth a hard line. “What did I do?” he chuckled, mouth dropping open.

“I’m trying to do something nice for you. You know I’ve never been to Honnleath—give me a fucking break here,” she mumbled, punching his chest gently. She moved to do it again only for Cullen to grab her hand. He tried to memorize every groove—the way she’d bitten her nails down, how soft her palms felt in his own, the feel of his thumb running over each of her knuckles. He met her gaze, her mouth open in shock. He was forgetting himself already.

“Alright, alright. Truce.” He smiled up at her, releasing her hand only for her to shove him again. “Gwyn.”

“Damn right. Now close your eyes and picture yourself wherever you want to be most.” His eyes shut once more and it only took a few seconds before the tips of her fingers were creating small circles near his neck. It was as if she were barely touching him, each movement light on his skin. It was nice, her touch. Her voice—cursing and all—more comforting than she probably realized. “Wherever you want to be. At home, maybe? With your family?”

He knew she was guessing and that it should be a natural reaction. That among those fields near his childhood home, he should be seeing Mia, Rosalie, and Branson. The faces of his nephews. His niece. And for a second, he did. He saw them at the dinner table, each of them smiling and talking amongst themselves. There was a warmth from moments like those that didn’t exist elsewhere.

Except that he was focused on who was sitting next to him at the table. Hand tucking strands of brown behind her ear as she talked, parenthetical dimples appearing on her freckled cheeks. Her thighs brushing against his as she leaned closer, fingers finding his with ease. He could hear her saying his name, her blue eyes flickering towards him as she squeezed his hand.

 But it wasn’t just that, he saw her right where she was. Next to him in bed, laughing loudly and without care. Her forehead pressed against his, her fingers in his hair. Being able to tell her he was falling in love with her without fear of the consequences.

Her voice was soft in his ears once more. “You’re not late for council meetings or running behind on assignments. You’re happy and surrounded by the people you love.”

He should tell her. It wasn’t fair to let her stay in his room, to do all of this for him. Especially after yesterday. He opened his mouth.

“Shhh.” Her fingers moved back behind his ears, undoubtedly in attempt to tame the curl residing there. “That stupid assignment later this week doesn’t matter. Yesterday…” she paused, her fingers freezing in place before he heard her exhale. “Yesterday doesn’t matter…and neither does whatever you need to do tomorrow.” Her fingers brushed against his shoulders, then down the length of his arms. “Cullen, wherever you are—whether you’re at home, in the fields, or running around campus…you’re safe.”

He swallowed, wishing she would just keep talking. She laughed and the sound was much too short for his liking. “Better?” she asked, the feel of her fingers retreating from his skin.

His eyes fluttered open, the view of brown wisps hanging above him, a smile on her lips. The longer she grinned, the scar on her jawline wrinkled with the freckles splashed across her cheeks. “Better?” she repeated, eyes hopeful.

He nodded, sitting up beside her. He took a deep breath, debating with himself whether or not to reach for her hand. “Gwyn, I need to tell you something.”

“Oh?” She raised a brow, leaning back over the side of the bed to gather her textbooks. She piled each of them in her arms, glancing over at him expectantly.

“I think I…” He paused at the sound of her phone vibrating against his desk. Groaning, she glanced at the display.

“My alarm. Sorry,” she sighed, silencing it quickly. She looked up at him again, her fingers drumming against the bottom of her books. “You were saying?”

“Alarm?”

“For my astronomy course. It’s in fifteen minutes or so,” she explained. “I’ve still got time for you, Cullen. Go on.”

His hands suddenly seemed much too clammy, his heart pounding too fast. He wanted to tell her, didn’t he? That was the new plan, wasn’t it? Yet his mouth went dry and all he could manage to do was glance up at his ceiling.

“If this is about the dream, you don’t have to tell me anything you aren’t ready for, Cullen.”

“No, I mean—I know.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. Maker, he was making a mess of things.

“Cullen?” Her voice wavered slightly.

He couldn’t do it. Not like this and especially not without knowing how she felt. “I’ll talk to you about it later,” he mumbled, massaging the back of his neck.

“Honestly, it’s fine. You have a couple more minutes to bend my ear a bit,” she noted with a grin.

He shook his head. “It can wait.” Could it?

Her smile disappeared and she slowly slinked off the side of his bed. “You sure?”

Maker, help him. “Positive.”

She thumbed through texts on her phone, sighing. “Hey, before I forget—yesterday Dorian and I were talking about the banquet tomorrow night. The one with the faculty?”

His heart sank. He’d already forgotten. Every term the council was meant to throw a small fundraising party with the members of the faculty, alumni, and local benefactors that might be willing to throw their weight around in gold. It was a chance for the council to rub elbows with these people and do their best to grovel for money…without actually asking for it. Last year, Leliana managed to turn it into a sort of game—whoever raised the most money could skip one meeting of their choice and was not required to assist in two separate events in the same term.

He hated those banquets. It was joke for him to stand on the sidelines, hands in his pockets as he listened to drunken flirtations. Granted, it helped him get funds they needed. But he never enjoyed it. Plus, it certainly didn’t help he had an essay due the following morning.

Gwyn must have seen the look in his eyes, a wide smile spreading across her face. “No worries, Rutherford. I know you have that paper. I’m letting you off the hook the night of the banquet so you can focus on that.”

“I somehow sense there’s more,” Cullen murmured, sliding off the edge of his mattress.

“You know me so well,” she hissed. “Since I’m in class, I can’t meet with the caterer and Brennan is helping us get a deal because…” she tutted softly, fighting with the words. “He was, let’s go with, _old friends_ with the woman who owns the place.”

Cullen raised a brow. “Woman?”

“Brennan appreciates…everyone?” Gwyn shrugged, glancing over at Cullen’s clock. “Anyway, I’ve got to run, but I’ll text you his number and he can pick you up?”

“Right, of course.”

She only managed to take a step before pausing. Her head poked through his door still. “Do me a favor and get some lunch with Brennan, yeah? A snack or something?” Her teeth worried at her bottom lip, her hands fighting with the large pile of books in her arms. When he didn’t respond right away, she smiled—brown hair falling in her eyes. “For me?”

And how could he argue with a face like that?

* * *

 

The catering had almost been a walk in the park—Cullen barely uttered a word during the entire meeting. Brennan flashed a toothy grin, handing over a clearly marked list in Gwyn’s loopy scrawl to the woman behind the counter. Her red hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, accentuating her pointed ears as she leaned on the display case, her name tag ( _Lindi)_ scratching against the glass with every movement. She giggled like mad, covering her mouth and glaring over at Cullen as if he were the one offending somehow.

“Will you be back to pick the order up tomorrow? I could…accompany you to the banquet afterward,” the woman practically purred.

“Ah, Lindi, I would if I could. I believe you guys are going to be delivering it to the University for Gwyn anyhow,” Brennan sighed, stepping away from the glass case. “Besides, I’ve got a pretty spectacular boyfriend to accompany me there.”

The woman shot a look towards Cullen, a scowl growing on her lips. “I see,” she hissed.

His eyes widened. “Oh, I’m not—” Cullen stammered, his face darkening by the second. “Not that I think Brennan’s not…oh, Maker.”

The two hurriedly walked out of the shop, Cullen’s face buried in his hands. It took a matter of seconds for Brennan to unlock the doors and settle in the driver’s side to start the engine.

“Maker’s Breath,” Cullen moaned, climbing into the passenger seat.

“Oh, lighten up,” Brennan muttered, pulling into traffic. “You’re certainly not Dorian. Besides, I think I’ve got your type figured out,” he added, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cullen spluttered, turning to look out the window. Brennan snorted as he took a left towards the University roads only to pull into a nearby convenience store.

“Listen, Cullen.” He ran a hand through his hair, slicking it back further. “As big of an annoying genius my sister can be, she doesn’t pick up on certain things.” He sucked in a breath, not meeting Cullen’s gaze. “So I’m willing to bet she hasn’t noticed the way you look at her is…well, different than the way you look at Leliana or Cassandra.”

Cullen’s face grew warm, warning bells ringing in his ears. “I assure you—”

He shot a knowing look towards Cullen. “Listen. My sister is an amazing person and I’m not just saying that because she’s my twin. She’s a bloody mess eight times out of ten, but she’s amazing nonetheless. She’s been through some terrible things, and I’m not saying you haven’t because I know you have, but somehow she manages to still be kind. She treats our parents with respect, despite not receiving any to begin with. She lets Mariana stay with her all the time, regardless of how much drama she brings. She…” Brennan swallowed, looking out the window.

“She got me back into school after I left the military. Got me a job as a guard because she thought it’d be good for me. She was going through her own shit—her own personal things that _I_ should have been there for. Yet, she stood by me even when our own parents wouldn’t. She’s a damn good person that lets a lot of people walk over her because that’s all she’s ever known, Cullen.” He sighed, opening the door. “Now, let’s go in and get you the damn snacks she says you need to eat.”

Cullen followed after Brennan, walking through aisles of various snacks. Brennan mulled over different chocolates, lifting bag after bag.

“Dorian doesn’t like this kind, I don’t think,” he mumbled under his breath, moving down the aisle.

Meanwhile Cullen’s mind was racing. Gwyn didn’t know. But how many people did? Leliana teased him mercilessly in private, goading him about his close friendship with Gwyn. How long would it take for Gwyn to find out? More than that, Dorian surely told Brennan about his past. Is that what Brennan thought Gwyn was to him? That he could very well be another person to walk all over her?

“I would never…” Brennan cut him off with a sigh, moving down the aisles. He stopped near a section of knick-knacks and toys, smiling a little at the sight of a small duck. He shook his head, his fingers grazing a bag of glow-in-the-dark stars.

“I’m not saying you would. All I’m saying…Gwyn’s not going to notice unless you spell it out for her. She doesn’t really see many shining examples of good men, myself included,” he mumbled. Brennan picked up two water pistols, grinning. “Think Dorian would kill me?”

Cullen could already hear the groans of annoyance from Dorian’s bedroom, prompting him to snort. “Do the days of the week end with the letter y?”

“Good point,” Brennan sighed. “Anyway—what I’m getting at is…Gwyn isn’t used to people having those kinds of feelings about her. I had a friend in school who genuinely liked her for weeks and flirted shamelessly. She never once caught on. She didn’t even believe me after I told her about it—stubborn woman. She lets a lot of things pass by because she doesn’t think she deserves ‘em, Cullen. If you like her…if a nice guy like you _genuinely_ gives a shit about her and wants to be with her? Don’t let yourself be one of those things for—”

Brennan’s phone chimed loudly and he sighed loudly at the sight of the display. “Twin sense. It’s like Andraste tells her when I’m talking about her, I swear,” he mumbled under his breath. “Grab yourself something, yeah?” He held the phone up to his ear, walking towards the back of the store as he greeted Gwyn far too loudly to be normal.

Cullen stood in the middle of the aisle, taking deep breaths as he pulled out his phone. At some point Gwyn must’ve texted him—two different messages showing up on his notifications.

**[2:33 PM] Hope my brother’s not making a complete arse of himself & that you’re feeling better than you were this morning. Promise me you’ll grab something to eat!**

The second was a photo—one she insisted they take the night before.

“Pleeeeeeeease?” she begged, shifting on the mattress to his side and handing him her phone.

“You’re messing up the board,” he grumbled, watching as the pieces scattered across his blankets.

“Let’s be honest with ourselves, Cullen. We both knew who was going to win that game, so take the damn photo.”

“Why do I have to take it?”

She wiggled her arms playfully. “Look at these short, little things. It’ll take less than ten seconds, Rutherford. Then, I can rightfully get back to kicking your ass at chess.” She winked, leaning in closer.

He attempted to steady the phone in his hand just as her shoulder brushed against his. With a wide grin on her face, she wrapped her arm around his bicep and he could have sworn that with every simple touch, she was sending tiny sparks prickling over his skin. He turned his head, eyes meeting hers. The corner of her mouth twitched slightly and it only took seconds for him to realize her lips were practically level with his own. He could do it—cup her face with his hand, close the few inches of space between them.

“You alright?” There was a slight giggle in her question, her hand gripping his arm even tighter. His eyes fell to the curve of her mouth, small indentations still fresh from where she constantly dug her teeth into her bottom lip. She didn’t want to jeopardize their friendship. Didn’t want to complicate things.

“I was just thinking about how many moves I needed to make before I beat you mercilessly,” he told her, finally finding his voice. Her smile widened further and it spread throughout the rest of her face—blue eyes crinkling shut, the freckles on her cheeks wrinkling the more her dimples formed. He smiled back at her, slowly training his gaze back towards the phone’s lens as she laughed in his ear. He snapped the picture quickly, possibly taking more than one on accident out of his eagerness to look at her again. To be eye-level with her, staring at her lips and freckles, only to be inches away from vastly changing his relationship with her for better or worse.

He stared down at the photo—the way he’d taken it practically mid-laugh. Her mouth hung open slightly, lips parted on that beautiful giggle of hers. He could see her eyes, open and beautiful, staring back up at him through her lashes. Her hand wrapped around his arm so tightly he could still remember what it felt like when her cheek pressed against his shoulder seconds afterward. He almost wished he had gotten a photo of that too—the moment after.

Gwyn’s eyes flickered up to meet his own, a sleepy smile on her lips. Her lips parted on a short sigh the longer she looked.

“Ho-how many more moves?” she asked, finally breaking the silence.

“What?” He lowered her phone as she gestured to the ruined chessboard. _Oh_. “Th-three moves.”

She nuzzled the inside of his arm before falling back on his pillow. “You smell nice,” she whispered, her voice already heavy with sleep. “Like fresh-cut wood…or maybe a whole goddamn forest.”

He chuckled as he gathered the chess pieces buried in the blanket around her. “That so?”

She nuzzled into her pillow further, eyes already shut. “Mmhm.”

She fell asleep by the time he had tucked the chessboard back under the bed.

He tapped on the photo with his thumb, pressing the ‘Save Image’ icon with a small smile. Tucking the phone back in his pocket, his eyes settled on the small bag of glow-in-the-dark stars Brennan touched moments before.

“Cullen?” Brennan took long strides towards him, two large pretzels in hand.

Cullen took the bag off the shelf, his smile widening. “I think I have an idea. For Gwyn.”

Brennan froze, rocking slightly on his heels. “That’s…great.”

Cullen walked up to the front counter, fishing out his wallet. “You sounded so keen on the idea a few minutes ago,” he called over his shoulder, giving the clerk a brisk nod. “The pretzels too,” he added under his breath.

 “Right…about that,” Brennan mumbled in between bites of his pretzel. The two walked out the door, Cullen grinning the entire walk back to the car. It was such a simple idea.

“I have it figured out. I think she’s going to love it.” Cullen caught the frown on Brennan’s face, the way he looked at his feet as he finished his pretzel. “It’s a bad idea?”

“No, I mean. I don’t know what it is…but it can’t be all that terrible. I just…uh. Unfortunately, there’s something you should know.” Brennan took a deep breath, fumbling with the keys to his car. A sinking feeling built in Cullen’s chest the longer Brennan avoided his gaze.

“What?”

“That was her on the phone. She just got out of her astronomy class,” he started, running a hand through his hair and sighing. “I still think you should go ahead and tell her—”

“Out with it,” Cullen muttered, his fingers clenching around the bag of stars in his hand.

Brennan looked in the opposite direction, wiping his jaw with the palm of his hand. He let out a sigh, his gaze falling back to his shoes. “Some guy from her astronomy class asked her out on a date.”

Oh. Cullen’s heart sank, a slow and tortuous feeling as it twisted in his chest. He fumbled with the car door handle, mulling over each hopeful variable.

“Perhaps she—”

“She told him yes, Cullen.”


	9. I Want

**[4:22 PM] You’ll never believe what happened to me.**  
**[4:23 PM] I haven’t quite made up my mind how I feel about it.**  
**[5:14 PM] I’ll be with Josie doing some planning for a few hours and then I’ll be over with some food a bit later than usual. Is that alright?**

He hadn’t answered her yet and it’d been hours. She stared down at the blinking cursor on her phone, tucking her lip behind her teeth the longer she didn’t get a response. It wasn’t like him.

“Are you even listening?” Gwyn looked up to see an amused look on Josephine’s face. Shifting the notebooks in her hand, Josephine tucked her pen behind her ear. “You’ve been checking your phone almost every other minute,” she added with a short laugh.

“I’m sorry, Josie,” Gwyn mumbled, forcing herself to put her phone face down. Her fingers lingered on the back of the case. “I just…Cullen isn’t answering my messages.”

Josephine offered a small smile. “I’m sure he’ll come around eventually. Give the man enough space and he always does. Trust me, I’ve gotten into…discussions with him on more than one occasion.”

“But we’re not fighting,” Gwyn interrupted. She bit the inside of her cheek. At least she didn’t think they were. “We talked this morning.”

“You know how Cullen gets. He’s probably working on something. Do you know how many times we’d invite him to dinner or send leftovers home with Dorian? Maker, the man forgets to _eat_ when he’s stressed and overworked, let alone remembers to check his phone.”

Gwyn shifted uncomfortably on the bed. She knew. She thought that, maybe, she was the exception. “Do you mind if I try phoning him? It’ll only take a moment.”

Josephine raised her brow and nodded. Something akin to a smirk played on her lips as she reached out for Gwyn’s notebook. “We’re just about finished here anyway.”

“What was that look for?” Gwyn asked.

“What look?” she replied coyly.

“I just want to check on him. That’s all.”

“Naturally.” The smirk reappeared on Josephine’s face. “Take your time.”

“It’s a phone call, Josie,” Gwyn sighed.

Stepping out into the kitchen, she held her breath as her thumb hovered over his number, then almost choked when he picked up on the first ring.

“Hello?” He sounded tired, faraway.

“Cull-Cullen? It’s me—” He chuckled on the other end, and it ended much too quickly.

“I know, Gwyn.”

“Right. Of course.” She let out a breath as relief washed over her. She could hear shuffling, then a thud or two in the background. “So how’s it coming along?”

“What?” There was a short groan on the other end. “Oh, the paper?”

She smiled into the phone’s receiver. “The paper.”

“It’s…progressing. Not as much as I’d like it to,” he admitted. She could hear the creak of his chair, a deep sigh as the image of him running a hand through his hair flashed through her mind.

“I’m sure it’ll be absolutely fantastic when you’re finished.”

“Yes, well…I’m not so sure.” He laughed, longer, and the sound made warmth prickle over her skin. “Perhaps when it’s actually finished I’ll think otherwise.”

“So.” She took a breath, letting it out between her teeth.

“Was there something you needed?” Cullen asked.

“Do I need a reason to talk to you?”

Another chuckle.  Maker, this time it was like a balm slowly soothing the unsettling nerves boiling underneath her skin. “No, I imagine you don’t.”

_Someone asked me on a real date today._

She could feel the words in her chest, slowly bubbling and rising to the back of her mouth. Why did it feel like she was rubbing it in his face?

“Gwyn?” His voice was soft—careful.

“I’m here!” It came out far too quickly. She closed her eyes and took a breath, hoping to somehow stifle the lingering unease. “I’m still here,” she repeated.

“I…” Cullen paused to swallow. “Was there something you wanted to tell me?”

It felt like she was giving him bad news. It wasn’t, was it?

She’d been caught off guard earlier when one of her classmates approached her as she texted Cullen after astronomy. Her stomach lurched when he said her last name and she fumbled with the books in her other hand. Dark hair with grey eyes. He’d talked with her before, asking her the odd question here and there in class.

“Owen!” She almost shouted it in his face, her own heating in pure embarrassment. A soft smile curled on his lips as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels.

“Trevelyan,” he repeated. Maker, his voice was like caramel. Overflowing and sweet. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

She grinned up at him only to glance back down at her bag, awkwardly shoving books into it. “I may have an answer.”

“You’re not dating anyone, are you?”

She froze, practically dropping the notebook in her hand. Eyes wide, she looked up at him. “What?”

 “I’ve been wanting to get to know you…better, but I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries,” he started. Gwyn blinked, her brow furrowing. “The man you’re always with?” he clarified.

“Are you talking about Cullen?”

“He’s tall? Sometimes wears glasses? I see you running with him every other morning. He brings lunch after this class every week.”

She almost laughed. Did people truly think that?

“Cullen,” she repeated, carefully slipping her bag over her shoulder. She walked into the hallway, Owen following a few steps behind. “He’s a close friend of mine. A good one.”

Owen sucked in a breath before letting out a relieved laugh. A wide grin spread across his face. “Forgive me—he just always looks so fond of you when you’re together.”

It suddenly felt like it was much too loud. There was a slight buzzing in her ears, heart pounding in her chest. Gwyn stopped in the hallway, turning the bracelet round her wrist. “What? What do you mean?”

“But you’re close friends, so of course he’d be fond of you. It was silly of me to assume anything more.”

She laughed nervously, the feeling fading as she continued walking forward. “Right.”

He walked with her—no, _ahead_ of her. Long strides that made her feel like she was running to keep up. “Would you be interested?” he asked, turning around to face her.

Her skin prickled at the question and she couldn’t help but wrap her arms around herself. “In Cullen?”

Owen laughed, loud and harsh. “In getting to know _me_ more,” he explained. “As in a date?”

Heat rose to her cheeks, her hands growing clammy every second she kept them wrapped around herself. “Right—I’m sorry. I’m not used to…”

“Dinner tomorrow, perhaps?”

“I…no.” She watched his face fall and her heart knot with it. “I mean I have a banquet tomorrow. For the union. Maybe—”

“I could accompany you.” The eagerness in his voice caught her by surprise, any semblance of a response forgotten on her lips. It was too much all at once. “I could meet you there,” he added.

There was a moment of hesitation as she looked at his face. _Don’t do it. You don’t know him—there’s no reason to believe he’ll show up._ She fidgeted slightly, eyes falling to her shoes. _But no one else is asking._ A deep breath, then an uncertain nod of her head. “Sure...that’s…that’ll be alright.”

She smiled at the sight of his eyes widening and lips curling upwards. He asked for her number and she read it off, jokingly reiterating the spelling of her name.  He input her number slowly after she repeated it, her smile slowly fading when she caught a glimpse of her name on the screen of his phone. _Trevelyan Girl (Gwen)._ It stung—a slight sinking feeling in her chest that didn’t quite settle right. Yet it was something she didn’t have the heart to correct as they said their goodbyes.

Minutes later as she walked to Josephine and Leliana’s apartment, she couldn’t describe the feeling as she scrolled through the photos she and Cullen had taken the night before. There were multiples—one with Cullen’s thumb blocking the lens, another much too blurry as he failed at studying his hand. The third was wonderful—both of them looking forward and taken mid-laugh. Cullen’s grin wide, the skin around his amber eyes crinkling around the edges. She took a moment to send it to him, adding a brief message along with it before realizing he’d taken more.

Another blurry one—their heads turning towards each other, it looked like. Then another. Her arms were still wrapped around his, her chin almost touching his shoulder. Her eyes were in a half-hooded daze—a smile curling on her lips as she looked up at him. Then Cullen—the look on his face was something else entirely. The smile was more like a subtle tug on the corner of his lips. His chin slightly tilted as he gazed down at her. His eyes somehow seemed softer than in the previous pictures—an expression she couldn’t quite place.

She zoomed in on Cullen’s face, a fluttering feeling building up in her chest the longer she looked. Did he always look at her that way?

_He just always looks so fond of you when you’re together._

“Gwyn?”

Cullen’s voice jerked her back to reality.

“Sorry! I was just thinking—” The sentence hung in the air, unfinished and broken. She started and stopped another sentence, then another.

_But you’re close friends, so of course he’d be fond of you._

“Is everything alright?” Cullen’s voice dropped. “Something…something sounds off.”

“Listen, Josie and I are pretty much done for the night. Do you think…do you think we could talk?” she asked tentatively.

“We’re talking now,” he replied. She could the slight smile in his voice. The kind that dented his cheek and wrinkled his scar.

“You know what I mean, Cullen.”

The faint sound of papers shuffling could be heard in between his breaths. “Of course.”

“Meet me halfway so we can get some food in that stomach of yours afterwards?” she asked.

“I’ll have you know I had a hearty lunch.”

“You had a pretzel,” she shot back, gathering her coat. “That’s hardly what I’d call hearty.”

“Clearly Brennan is not one to be trusted.”

“Was that a joke, Rutherford?” Gwyn grinned, opening the door to Josephine’s room to grab her bag. She lowered her voice. “I’m going to head out, Josie. Keep my notebook and try to get some rest tonight, yeah?”

“When I’m dead perhaps. I’ll be fine—this is the easy part anyway,” Josephine sighed. She smiled up at Gwyn, gesturing to the phone in her hand. “Tell our mutual friend I said hello.”

Gwyn slid her bag over her shoulder before leaving the apartment. “I’m on my way.”

The air was cool, the sun already setting by the time Gwyn made her way outside. She pulled her jacket a little closer, eyes flitting upwards at the darkened hues of orange and purple. Each scuff of her shoes on the pavement only making her weary.

What could she say? That she had a date with someone who thought Cullen and her were dating, someone who possibly only knew her by her last name instead of her first?

“There you are.” Her head jerked in front of her to find Cullen wearing his white Skyhold shirt, short curls near his forehead already coming loose. He adjusted his glasses before waving in her direction. “Thought that was you stargazing all the way across campus,” he said smugly.

“I am nothing if not predictable,” she replied, offering a small smile. “Gardens?”

He nodded, walking with her the entire way. He balled one hand into a pocket of his jeans, the other hand raking through his hair. “Did the planning go well?”

“Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without Josephine,” she admitted. “She’s amazing, as always.”

“She’s always been tenacious. The union wouldn’t be what it is without her or Leliana’s hard work.” He paused at the edge of the gardens, one hand gently massaging the back of his neck. “You, uh, said you wanted to talk?”

She didn’t know where to start. Unable to look at him, she looked up at the sky. It’d darkened so much already—a mixture of blue and black with stars spaced in between large groups of clouds.

“You can’t see Fervenial tonight,” she whispered. He took a step towards her so that he was at her side, looking up the sky with her. “It’s, um, it’s usually hard to see anyway. There’s a lot of other constellations around it, so…you have to be really looking for it to see just how beautiful it is. It’s…” she trailed off, casting a cursory glance in his direction.

Gwyn swallowed hard when she caught him looking right at her.  Cullen’s mouth was open just enough, his amber eyes quickly darting back towards the sky. “I’m sure it’s quite breath-taking,” he said lowly.

“It is,” she breathed, eyeing him carefully. “You don’t have to give it a second look to know you want it seared into your brain. Hopefully I’ll be able to show it to you one night.”

His stomach was in knots, twisting and coiling at her words. Was she still talking about the stars? He brushed the thought off. Definitely the stars. His fingers wrapped around a coin in his pocket, his thumb running over each and every ridge along its edge.

“I know about the date,” Cullen murmured, closing his eyes. “Brennan told me.”

She nodded slowly, unable to meet his gaze. “I’m—”

“I’m happy for you,” Cullen interrupted, a twitch of a smile on his lips. He gripped the coin tighter. “When is it?”

“He told me he’d meet me at the banquet tomorrow,” she whispered.

He took a breath, standing at her side. His forearm brushed hers, her eyes shutting at the contact of his skin on hers. “I hope it goes well.”

Part of him meant it—the unselfish half. The half that wanted to see Gwyn happy, regardless of who it was with. He didn’t deserve her in the first place. Yet the other half bellowed at him, cursed him for not taking a chance when he was given so many. He could, at the very least, try.

She didn’t say anything in response, her chin quivering slightly. Her eyes never left the sky, her fingers fidgeting the longer they stood in silence. Each second she fumbled with them, Cullen resisted the urge to take them in his own.

“Have you ever wanted something so badly? Almost as if it were so close you could taste it? Maybe if you could just reach a little further or…” she trailed off, eyes finally falling to her feet as she shook her head. Soft laughter came from her lips as she wiped fresh tears running down her cheek with the back of her hand.

With little thought, his hand found hers. Their fingers wove together with such ease that Cullen hoped he wasn’t the only one to notice. Heart pounding in his ears, he closed his eyes and pulled the three letter word tingling in his very fingertips as he squeezed her hand.

“Yes.”

It came out in a short gasp—dry and slightly broken. Yet it felt like a weight had been lifted off of him the longer she allowed his thumb to brush against her skin. She wasn’t letting go. The insurmountable amount of pressure in his chest became replaced with this shaking hope.

“I want…” Cullen sucked in a breath as he faced her, his hand growing clammier in hers by the second. He cupped her cheek with his other, the pad of his thumb brushing away tears as blue eyes met his. He studied the shape of her mouth, the slight twitch of her lips. Unable to move or form words, his mind raced as his fingertips became buried in her hair near her ear and all he wanted to know was the feel of her lips on his own. Gwyn’s free hand clutched at his shirt, her small fingers winding in the material, and he wondered just how much luck the Maker would grant him.

He wanted so much with her, despite not deserving a single thing.

His hope plummeted at the familiar sound of his phone chiming in his pocket. Gwyn’s grip immediately loosened, her hand falling to her side as heat rose to her cheeks. “We should probably get some food, I think,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “That pizza place is closed by now, but we could probably make it to the Marcher restaurant if we hurry.”

“Right,” he croaked, offering a small smile. “Of course.” He raked a hand through his hair, adjusting his glasses once more before letting out a deep breath.

Just wanting something wasn’t always enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter art by the incredible [mianzuart on tumblr](http://mianzuart.tumblr.com/)


	10. This was Enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter art by the absolutely incredible [feylen](http://www.feylen.tumblr.com) on tumblr.

He couldn’t sleep. It certainly wasn’t without a lack of trying. It was that the thoughts in Cullen’s head were far too loud. That his body buzzed from everything that happened earlier that night. The weight of her hand in his, how her fingers curled around his palm with such ease. She stayed with him until midnight, lounging on his couch and watching television until she finished her food.

She picked at her dinner roll, her lips curling in concentration at the most recent question asked in  _Trivia of Thedas_. She mumbled the correct answer under her breath, groaning a little when the contestant’s time ran out.

“Remind me why we watch this again?” she grumbled, mouth full of bread. She rested her head in his lap and wrapped an arm around his waist.

A low rumble built up in his chest as he ran his fingers through her hair. “I _believe_  it was you who turned it on.” He shifted to get a good look at her face, his glasses slipping down the length of his nose. Blush filled her cheeks as he smirked down at her. “What was it you told me the first time you made me watch it all those months ago? That it was the television show of our generation? That I  _had_ to watch it?”

“So I make some questionable life choices,” Gwyn shrugged, hooded eyes holding his gaze for mere minutes that dragged on like hours. There was a moment- a flicker was more like it- where a tug of some kind formed in the very pit of his stomach. It coiled there, lurching at the feel of Gwyn’s fingertips near his waist. Bitten-down nails brushing against almost exposed skin where his university shirt had bunched up  _just_ enough.

He searched her face, his hope dangling on a precipice the longer he watched the usual wrinkles and crinkles that accompanied her smile slowly disappear. A sign, that’s all he needed. Something to push him over that dangerous, but wonderful edge.

But she shot to her feet, gathering empty take out containers and turning a deep shade of red. “I should probably get some sleep. Busy day ahead of us and all. Papers to write. Banquets to plan….” She trailed off and Cullen knew what was dangling there in the back of her mind. _A date_.

If he had mustered an ounce of courage, he would’ve offered his couch for the night. His bed, even. The pleas bubbled underneath his skin, begging that he ask her to stay. Just for the night. Each version sounded worse than the last, and all he could muster was an entirely foolish, “good night.”

Her eyes fell to the dark carpet in his too small living room, her fingers tapping lightly on the door knob. The corner of her mouth twitched into a sad smile and Cullen ignored the tightness in his chest.

“Good night, Rutherford.”

The feeling was still the hours after she left. His bed felt emptier—not that he would ever expect her to continue staying with him. It’d only been a few nights after all. Cullen had grown used to the warmth and quiet breathing that she brought to the space beside him. More than that, he loved the natural movement of Gwyn curling towards him, how she draped her arms over his waist out of instinct.

What would have happened if his phone hadn’t gone off earlier that night? Would she have let him kiss her? Would she have kissed him back? Cullen’s jaw clenched at the very thought.

Tired of counting the tiles on his ceiling, he swiped open his phone to look at the texts from earlier. Two messages from Branson he still hadn’t figured out how to answer.

**[** **10:47 PM] I stopped by the house earlier. Mia’s been worrying about you. I know you said you’re fine, but give her a call soon. Perhaps so she’ll stop pacing the house? You can imagine the tracks she’s made in the kitchen alone.  
[10:49 PM] Anyway, she also knows you’ve got a bit of a break coming up. She hopes you’ll consider coming home for once. You know, so you can get some real food? She says you’re welcome to bring company—I think she means the girl you’ve mentioned from time to time, but I think she’d be happy if you brought Dorian. Hope you’re doing well, brother.**

He knew he should call more often, knew that it would only put Mia’s mind more at ease if he did. They meant well. They always did. Honestly, it was that Mia was never subtle and Cullen was never sure what to say. Most of their talks were about whether he was eating well ( _well enough_ ), whether he was getting out of his apartment enough ( _never missed a class and still went running every morning)_. She asked about his nightmares and headaches ( _awful but not occurring as frequently)_ , and if he had met anyone ‘special’ yet ( _stop prying)_.

Letting out a deep breath, he rested his arm over his head. He could barely admit his feelings to Gwyn. As if he could ever ask her to put up with the chaos of the Rutherford homestead for the entirety of their break. He would have to call Mia in the morning, tell her he’d come home to put her mind at ease. Alone, more than likely.

He had almost slipped his phone back on his nightstand when it vibrated in his hand, the bright light shining in his eyes and blinding him momentarily. Yet he didn’t waste time swiping his thumb across the screen to answer.

“Hello?” he answered quickly, hoping he didn’t sound too tired.

“Shit!” It was a soft squeak in his ear, then a soft sigh. Cullen didn’t have to guess how mortified Gwyn probably was, nor her next sentence. “Maker, I am so incredibly sorry. Honestly, I shouldn’t have-”

“You didn’t wake me, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he interjected. He waited, listening to the sound of her soft breathing on the other line.

“I…didn’t?”

“Of course not.” A smile grew on his face as he tucked a hand underneath his head. “Everything alright across the hall?”

There was silence.

“Gwyn?”

“I know…” she faltered, taking a deep breath. “I know I just left a couple hours ago, but I just…well, I wanted to ask you something.”

“What’s that?” He held his breath.

“You got any ice cream in your freezer?”

He grinned, letting out a short laugh. “I should hope so! They’re leftovers from my last win.”

“Win?” She snorted loudly. “You’re mistaken, Rutherford.”

“I believe you are.”

“No! I remember it perfectly! I won that pint fair and square because you couldn’t remember my family motto!” she argued.

“Well, the question was hardly fair to begin with. That’s the equivalent of me asking you who burnt the cookies last year during my family holiday.”

“Was it you?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Right. So it _was_ you?”

The corner of his mouth lifted and he glanced over at the space beside him. He wanted to ask—no, needed to get at least _one_ of his questions out. “Did you want to come back over?” He closed his eyes, swallowing hard. It was far too eager. “For the ice cream.”

Silence. The kind that made Cullen’s stomach churn.

“Only if you want. I know you’ve got a busy day ahead of you, but I just thought—” he paused at the sound of a soft knock on the door. The nervousness in his chest replacing itself with pure excitement as he got out of bed. It bubbled over his skin, creating goosebumps down the lengths of his arms with every step. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door.

Gwyn shifted nervously on her feet, wearing her usual university shirt and running shorts that he’s seen her in a thousand times before. Yet his tongue grew heavy at the sight alone, his free hand creating a tight fist. He caught the way Gwyn’s eyes drifted over his bare chest and hips before falling to the floor.

She twisted the bracelet around her wrist, fidgeting slightly. “It’s late, I know, but you offered. Then, I just thought-”

“Chocolate chip or vanilla?”

He reveled in the warmth of her smile.

* * *

 

They didn’t fall asleep until the sun was close to appearing over the horizon, both spending the late hours of the night talking aimlessly with one another. They laughed too loudly, exchanging a pint of ice cream between them as time dwindled.

“I’m telling you right now,” she sighed, coming back from disposing of the empty ice cream carton. She turned out the lights, quickly settling herself beside him and resting her legs in his lap. “Sera’s going to remove my eyebrows one of these days, Cullen.”

He massaged her feet gently, a grin spreading across his face. “That must be why the one on the right is-” She playfully kicked his thigh and he held up in his hands in protest. “Maker’s Breath! Who knew being your friend would result in such pain?”

Gwyn grew quiet, leaning close to him as his index finger traced small circles near her ankle. He stared at her legs, every now and then his eyes flitting toward the exposed skin of her thighs. There were small groups of freckles there, splattered across her flesh like small flecks of paint. His fingers lightly moved up and down the underside of her calf, running over smooth skin before finally meeting her gaze.

He caught the way her legs trembled slightly underneath his touch and forced himself to move back to her feet. There were so many things he wanted to ask her. His fingers lightly rubbed at her heel until she shifted in bed, yawning softly. He swallowed hard, one of his questions slowly oozing out. “What do you think you’ll be doing for break?”

“Mm? Oh break. Probably stay here, honestly,” she sighed. “Get some work done, if I can. Avoid the rest of my family at all costs. You know, the usual.” She tucked an arm underneath her head, eyes studying him carefully. “And you?”

“I’ll be returning to the Rutherford homestead.”

“Mia missing you?”

“According to Branson, she’s practically digging a hole in her kitchen with the amount of pacing she’s doing.”

“You’ve been calling her, haven’t you?”

“Not as often as I should,” he admitted. Gwyn shook her head, pushing him gently.

“Oh, Cullen. You’ve got to call. She’s not going to rest until she hears from you properly—trust me.”

“Is that so?” Her lips formed a tight line at his words, her eyes looking past him. Cullen winced, realizing he’d touched some kind of nerve. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean-“

“She’ll feel better once she hears your voice. Trust me. Maker knows what I’d do if I didn’t have Brennan,” she whispered.  A small smile formed on her face, eyes meeting his once more. “Tell me about your home.”

“What about it?”

“You said it’s in the country, right?”

“Just outside of town,” he nodded. “It’s a small farm. We used to have a couple pigs and some cattle.”

She smiled. “Sounds nice.”

He could practically see it in his head. The fields of tall grass, the bed of flowers his mother had planted near the treehouse he and Mia watched their father build.  He missed that open air—the smell of the freshwater just beyond the quiet, wooded area behind the house. “It is.”

Gwyn yawned softly, eyes squeezing shut as she covered her mouth. “Oh, to see the curly-haired child that was Cullen Rutherford. I imagine the photos on the wall are adorable.”

“Would you like to go with me?” He watched Gwyn’s eyes shoot open, a lazy smile on her face. “If you want,” he added.

“You mean be with a normal family for once?”

“I would hardly call us normal,” he said, lowering his voice.

“A loving family,” she corrected. Cullen felt his face grow hot in the silence between them.

“You don’t have to if-”

“I’d like that, actually.”

Cullen’s brows lifted, his jaw slackening slightly. “You would?”

She nodded slowly, blue eyes half-hooded as she curled closer. Her voice was soft as she draped an arm over his waist. “Why not? It’d be a nice change for both of us, and I’d finally meet the family I’ve heard so much about in the process. Sounds perfect.” She took a breath, a sleep-heavy sigh on her lips. “Plus I want to try those cookies of Mia’s you’re always going on about.”

He maneuvered his arm around her, unable to stop himself from smiling. “Well, don’t tell her that—she’ll keep sending you them until one day you wake up and can’t fit in any of your pants.”

“My mother never made me cookies,” she mumbled sadly. Cullen tucked his arm under her neck, gently moving her head so that it rested on his chest. She grew quiet once more, her breath hot on his skin. He had almost thought she’d fallen asleep when he felt her head lift slightly to meet his gaze.

Cullen flashed her a small smile. “You should sleep, Gwyn.”

“I know,” she sighed, worrying her bottom lip. Her head rested back on his chest, soft waves of hair falling over her face.

“But?” he prodded, gently running his fingers up and down the length of her spine.

“You remember how I called you before the bonfire and you told me my date would be a fool to stand me up?” Her forehead brushed against the side of his chin and he nodded, remembering the sound of her small sniffles after his assurances.

“I remember, yes.”

“Do you think Garrick would have changed his mind if I looked differently? Or perhaps Owen would remember my name?”

His jaw clenched, his skin growing hot. “You mean to tell me he asked to accompany you to the banquet and he doesn’t know your name?”

“I’m not entirely sure-” Gwyn frowned, her teeth creating small indentations in her lower lip. “But it’s not the point, Cullen,” she whispered.

He shifted, using one hand to brush loose strands of hair out of her face. Her lips were a hard line, small creases forming on her forehead when his hand moved over her cheek. She sucked in a quick breath when the pad of this thumb lightly traced the outline of the scar on her jawline. She blinked at his touch, soft wrinkles forming in the corner of her eyes just before she reopened them for blue to meet amber.

“Gwyn…” His lips quirked to the side as he searched for the right words. “You don’t need to look different.” Her cheeks flushed, her chin dipping low to avoid his gaze. It wasn’t enough. There was more he wanted to tell her. So much more.

“Maybe if I looked like Mariana,” she said lowly.

He bit the inside of his cheek, reminding himself of the boundary he was dangerously toeing the line of before finally allowing his thumb to move over the dip near her chin. Cullen’s finger brushed over the crease where her healed scar looked to have been the deepest, each touch tender as he slowly drew her eyes back to him. “I assure you, you could show up to the banquet tomorrow exactly like this-pajamas and all- and still be the brightest thing in the room. You are…” He took a breath, unable to get the word out fast enough. “Incredible,” he finally finished.

 Time seemed frozen around them as her hair tangled around the tips of his fingers. Her mouth dropped open at his words, the hand on his waist shaking against his own skin. He tore his gaze away from her lips, ignoring the familiar tug urging him on as he pulled her closer. The thumb of one hand massaged her back while the other hand ran through her hair. His lips pressed against her forehead as he held her, allowing himself this small moment.

 “You’re beautiful.” He was met with silence and he worried he had crossed the line. Yet she didn’t pull away from his embrace, didn’t flinch when he kissed her forehead again. He allowed himself to breathe in the subtle scent of her shampoo. “The boy is a fool if he doesn’t think the same and is an even bigger one if he doesn’t have the decency to remember your name,” he mumbled against her forehead.

He could feel her smile against his chest, the seam of her lips parting and the corner of her mouth slowly lifting. A mixture of relief and guilt washed over him every second she remained there, her fingers lazily moving up and down his back. Every simple touch felt more and more like the very skies she admired from afar. Beautiful and soft. Easy to get lost in.

For the moment, he relished how her body felt wrapped with his—legs slightly tangled and her feet warm as they brushed against his ankle. There was a sense of peace in her steady breathing, in the rise and fall of her chest against his stomach as well as the heat of each exhale on his skin. He knew how his fingers felt in her hair, his lips and nose buried in the soft locks at the top of her head. The smell of her soap was now slowly becoming memorized with every breath he took and, even though his eyes were growing heavy with sleep, there was so much he wanted to take in.

He pushed aside the guilt that crawled under his skin for allowing his feelings to take over. He reminded himself that she didn’t shy away from him, and even if she didn’t return his feelings, being allowed this for a moment in time was _freeing_. He wanted to memorize each breath, the warmth he didn’t think existed anywhere else. For the moment, it was just his soul singing for every second he thought he didn’t deserve this.

Things very well could be different in the morning and he prayed he hadn’t complicated things too much.

But Maker, for the time being, this was enough.


	11. Lovely

She woke to the sound of voices in the other room, the creak of the front door following suit. A drowsy sigh left her lips as she buried herself closer to Cullen’s neck. Maker, he smelled so good. She always wondered what kind of cologne he used-- something woody that seemed to seep into her own clothes these last few nights she stayed with him. She breathed it in, wondering if he could feel the slight smile playing on her lips or her fingers winding in his hair.

The other hand wrapped underneath him had been numb for hours, but she never tried to wriggle it free. She didn’t want to quite yet. Where her fingers rested she could make out the outline of some healed scar near his hip bone, jagged and beautiful in its own way. She winced, wondering if Cullen saw her in the same light. Did he truly feel that way about the scar on her face? Would he feel that way about her when he saw the others?

Beautiful. The word caused her skin to prickle. 

Cullen had called her beautiful, called her incredible. Her. The thought swallowed her up, weighing her down with question after question. Would he regret it? Or worse—what if he didn’t mean it? Perhaps had only said it to alleviate her worries, quiet her fears?  But, Maker, the way he spoke to her. This wasn’t something he could easily take back.

And she wasn’t sure she wanted him to.

Her fingers raked through the hair at the back of his neck. “Cullen?” she mumbled it into his shoulder, unsure if she really wanted him to wake. Part of her just wanted to stay a little longer, wanted to be held by him more.

When Gwyn’s hand moved from the back of his neck to his shoulder, he didn’t stir from his slumber, but a soft grunt from his lips filled the space between them. He shifted slightly, the arm draped over her waist instinctively pulling her even closer. As if being pressed against him wasn’t enough, would never be enough. Looking up, she could see the curve of his jawline and the cleft in his chin. The early morning stubble he always seemed to have, regardless of his upkeep.

With every move she made, she held her breath just as he let one out, and she could feel the rise and fall of his chest underneath her. A dip of sorts that kept her heart pounding. Maker, Cullen had been the beautiful one. He slept with soft sighs and arms clinging to her. Another groan left him when Gwyn’s fingers traveled over his chest, over the dips and plains of his skin. Scars painted his flesh in several places, some unable to be seen, but her fingers brushed over them, tracing each line until he shivered at her touch.

He rolled onto his stomach, loosening his grip momentarily, and Gwyn took the opportunity to wriggle her arm free. She should leave, hurry to help set up for the banquet and keep Josephine calm. Instead she stared, watching as Cullen nestled into his pillow, loose curls falling on his forehead. His arm searched for her, draping itself back over her once more until they were mere centimeters apart.

Gwyn didn’t miss the way he leaned into her the night before in the gardens. He held her hand and she hadn’t known how to react, suddenly couldn’t breathe. He’d come so close, his nose brushed against her own. She caught the slight smile on his lips that disappeared at the sound of his phone. How his gaze had softened the more he lowered his head. It reminded her of the picture on her phone. A softness in his eyes the longer he looked at her, as if there was something she wasn’t seeing.

Minutes passed as Gwyn continued studying him. She could see the edges of scarred skin on his right side, all mottled pink and pinched together. Looking up at his face, his brows knit together—his breathing still steady and soft. She reached behind her, fumbling slightly until her fingers found her phone.

She breathed a sigh of relief at the lack in notifications, swiping to pull up her camera and press the bright red record button. She smiled at the view in front of her. The few times in which she hadn’t seen or felt him constantly tossing and turning. Letting out a deep breath, Gwyn took his chin in her hand. Her thumb briefly settling in the small cleft there just before following the curve of his jawline and resting on his cheek. Rough, stubbled skin scratched against her palm until Cullen’s lips twitched at the sensation of her hand gently sliding into his hair. A drowsy smile formed on his face as her fingers tucked loose curls behind the shell of his ear.

“My friend is hiding somewhere behind there, I think,” he mumbled in a gravelly voice, his eyes half-hooded. She blushed, quickly withdrawing her hand and lowering her phone with the other. “There you are,” he whispered, his eyes opening just enough to see her staring back at him. The arm around her waist remained there, his fingers circling near the small of her back.

“Mornin’,” she whispered, finding her voice buried deep.

“I think it’s been morning for quite some time,” he rasped back. The smile on his face disappeared and a low groan rumbled between them as he partially buried his face in his pillow. “Maker, please tell me you’re not recording me.”

“I’m not recording you,” she replied innocently. Cullen raised a brow, smirking when Gwyn finally lowered her phone. “I made sure to only get the best angles.”

“Of course,” he chuckled, the sound echoing in Gwyn’s ears. The hand on her waist loosened its grip, slowly withdrawing only for Gwyn to move closer, testing this bridge between them.

“I was…I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” she stammered, falling onto her back and fumbling with her fingers. She looked over at him, watching his brows lift as he inched closer and propped his head up with one arm.

“You have? I…I’ll do my best to provide an answer,” he stammered.

“I…” Gwyn worried at her lip, fumbling with each question in her head. _Did you mean it—the words you said last night? Am I fooling myself with the way you’ve been looking at me? If I kissed you, would you let me? And would you stay either way?_ She swallowed hard, looking back down at her fingers. “Last night, I just wondered—”

The phone in Gwyn’s hand buzzed to life and she frowned at the notification.

**Josephine [8:26 AM]: Rise and shine, my dear friend. We have a busy morning ahead of us! Question: has music been confirmed for the event? Also, can you please have Brennan check in with the caterers?  
[8:26 AM] Oh! Before I forget, Leliana says you’re more than welcome to get ready for the banquet at our apartment that way you’re not running back and forth to your dorm. See you soon!**

“Time to go?” Cullen asked.

Gwyn nodded, silently sending a message along to Brennan and a short reply back to Josie. “I don’t want to go,” she whispered.

“It won’t be that bad,” Cullen replied with a grin.

“I’m a shit director, Cullen. Leliana, Josephine, and you do all the real work for the Union. I just lead the meetings,” she mumbled. “Not to mention I’ve no real desire to be called ‘the Trevelyan girl’ tonight on what should be a perfectly nice date.”

“Do you realize how much attendance has spiked since you’ve become Director? We’ve never had as many students come to our events, and certainly never had this many people wanting to participate in the Union. You’re a part of that, Gwyn.” She chewed her lip in response, heart pounding when Cullen’s hand covered her own. “And you can always text me if things go horribly,” he said with a wink. She stared at his mouth, watching the half-smile appear on his lips. The one that made his scar lift and wrinkle in just the right way. “I mean—if you _want_ , of course,” he added quickly.

“Thank you.” Her voice was small, blush rising to her cheeks. “You sure you don’t want to keep me company?”

“I’d like…” he trailed off, shaking his head at the thought before he could finish it. His thumb swept over her knuckles, his voice tentative. “You said there was something you wanted to ask me?”

“Right.” Her throat suddenly felt dry as her gaze fell to the place where their hands met. Ashamed, her words came out in a whisper. “What music do you think we should play at the banquet?”

“What music…” She didn’t have to look over at him to know his face was falling, to know she’d disappointed him. His fingers remained covering hers. “I, well…I quite like Sinatra. Classics from Ferelden—you can’t go wrong.”

He forced a small smile just as Gwyn’s phone went off once more. “I should…”

He let go of her hand, nodding slowly. “I know.”

She slid off the bed, her fingers fidgeting with the door knob. “Can we…would you mind if we talked later? When I’ve more time?” _Please?_

“Of course.” He caught the way her gaze lingered on him. “Remember you can text me later. Any time.”

She opened his door, smiling. “If you find time, you should look out your window. The sky is supposed to be gorgeous tonight. Shame you won’t see it in person.” She shifted on her feet. “Good luck on your paper, Rutherford.”

“Gwyn?” She paused, brows lifting.

“Hm?”

“You’ll look great.”

He missed her before she had even disappeared from his view.

* * *

 

Five pages was all he had written hours after she left. He stared at the blinking cursor, completely exhausted in more ways than one. Despite how long he’d been pouring over pages and pages of information for his paper, he found it difficult to concentrate on the historical background of counseling, especially after knowing that Gwyn had wanted to talk to him.

Had he gone too far?

The thought scattered around in his brain, and settled in the darkest corner. The forehead kiss, the handholding—it all had been matters of foolish impulse. Yet, he couldn’t deny the bliss that existed in being able to hold her. The quiet that enveloped the both of them, the light touches that lingered on his skin even now. He vaguely remembered the sensation of her fingertips on his side this morning—raking, perhaps? No, tracing.

“Cullen?” He turned around to see Dorian standing in the doorway, Brennan at his side and straightening Dorian’s tie with one hand. “We’re about to leave for the banquet with Cassandra. Beg for support and all that.”

Cullen thought of Gwyn—slipping on a dress and applying her makeup until Leliana insisted to help her with her hair. Fingers tightly gripping the material of her dress until she saw her date, a faceless man who led her around the gardens as she tried to convince person after person that the student union deserved their support. Part of him hoped he made her laugh—that she smiled so bright, she forgot where she was. The other half was chastising itself for glancing over at his phone like it might ring at any given moment.

“Are you certain you’re not coming?” Dorian asked, frowning.

“I don’t think so.” He let out a sigh, fixing his glasses before raking a hand through his hair.

“Fair enough. I just thought I’d ask,” Dorian replied. “Besides, Brennan tells me Mariana plans on making an appearance—says the Trevelyan family might donate,” he snorted.

Cullen’s heart sank at the idea of her sister being present. “Mariana? Does Gwyn know about this?”

“I reckon not. I’m not looking forward to getting yelled at, honestly,” Brennan mumbled, glancing away. “Oh, before I forget…” He disappeared from view only to return seconds later. “You left this in my car.”

“I didn’t—”

He looked back at Brennan to see a small bag in his hand. The glow in the dark stars from the store. Dorian glanced inside the bag, a sly smile on his face. “What, pray tell, were you planning to do with these? Decorate your room?”

Within seconds, Cullen rose to his feet and snatched the plastic bag from his hands. “You’re prying.”

Dorian’s brows lifted. “Vishante kaffas…those trinkets are for _her_. Who knew you were such a romantic?”

“Wait.” Brennan’s jaw dropped. “Fuck a nug…you’re _actually_ going to tell her.”

“I wasn’t...I mean, I was _going_ to, but—” Cullen groaned, rubbing at his neck. Heat crept up the skin underneath his hand, a tinge of red flushing over his cheeks. “Maker’s Breath. How many people know?”

“More than you’d like,” Dorian admitted, his eyes practically twinkling. “Word travels fast and it’s not hard when you look at her like there’s nothing else in the room.”

“I don’t—”

“You _both_ do, trust me. Gwyn’s just too knotted up in her head to figure it out,” Brennan corrected, crossing his arms with a sense of pride. He leaned against the door frame, nodding towards the bag in Cullen’s hands. “So what’s your plan?”

“I don’t have a plan. You heard her, she’s meeting someone at the banquet—”

“But that doesn’t mean you just _quit_. You bought those for a reason, mate,” Brennan sighed. “I’m not in the habit of seeing my sister talk herself down these days. I just…I think you care a great deal about one another, and you’re both going to need to meet each other halfway.”

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but we’ve got to get going or Cassandra will never let us hear the end of it,” Dorian sighed. “You know where we’ll be, my friend. Groveling at the feet of others.”

They said their goodbyes, Brennan rolling up his sleeves before helping Dorian with his jacket. As the couple made their way out, Cullen looked down at the bag of plastic stars in his hand, clutching them tightly. It wouldn’t be terribly hard to do. It’d require research and a little time, but it was certainly doable. A small surprise of sorts he knew she’d appreciate. One he wouldn’t necessarily have to take credit for if it didn’t go well. _But you never know_.

“Brennan?” he croaked, his throat dry.

“Yeah?”

“Do you have a way into Gwyn’s room?”

“Er, Cassandra might let you in. Why?”

Unsure and excited, Cullen grabbed his phone. “I might have an idea.”

* * *

 

**[6:33 PM] About to leave for the banquet!**

Gwyn sent the message to him nearly two hours ago with a photo of her attached. She stood in front of Josephine’s mirror wearing a knee-length navy blue dress with simple sleeves. Her hair was down- a rare sight- with soft curls that seemed to spill over her shoulders. The longer he looked at it, the more he noticed. She stood with one hand behind her back, one knee slightly bent—most likely out of nerves. But, Maker, her smile. It spread through the rest of her face. Dimples decorated both of her cheeks, her eyes practically squeezing shut. She looked lovely, and he knew he should’ve told her. If he didn’t, her date certainly would. That is, if he had any decency he would.

Instead of thinking of her with her date, he focused at the task at hand. From time to time he’d scroll through his phone, carefully tracing the patterns he found only to end up holding it up to the almost completed ceiling. It was a meticulous idea—filled with mild frustration and overwhelming excitement the closer he became to finishing his work. With each star he affixed he could not stop the smile of satisfaction that spread across his face as he watched everything take shape. A point here, another there. He imagined this was as close as he would ever get to seeing what Gwyn saw—irregular patterns that made up something more.

The sound of his phone caused him to drop the piece of plastic in his hand. His thoughts switched to Gwyn, her name practically a prayer as he fumbled for the phone in his pocket. He swiped his thumb across the screen, not bothering to check who it was.

“Everything alright?”

“Well! I should hope so!” He recognized the deep sigh immediately. “So your phone does, in fact, work?”

He picked up the fallen star with his free hand, reapplying the putty to the inside of it. “Mia.”

“I’m only teasing!” she replied, her voice muffled. Cullen could envision her at her kitchen table, her hand reaching inside the latest batch of cookies she undoubtedly baked in stress.

“Chocolate chip or sugar?” he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk.

“I hate you.”

He shook his head, grinning. “Oh, do you really?”

“I wouldn’t be up half the night worrying about you—”

“Mia.” He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Honestly, I’m—”

“You’re fine, I know. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear from you,” she grumbled.

“I know.” He glanced down at his notes before applying the star back to the ceiling, guilt seeping in at Gwyn’s words the night before. “Once every week sound alright? To call?” Cullen could hear the smile breaking across Mia’s face.

“I suppose it’ll do,” she said calmly.

“Did Branson tell you I’m coming home?” Cullen asked, grabbing two more stars out of the bag.

“He might have…”

“Well, you’ll be needing to clear out that guest room. Or I can sleep on the couch—”

“Who’s coming? Dorian?”

He glanced at the paper once more, carefully placing each star. “Mia, you’re prying.”

“You haven’t called me in weeks, I think I deserve to know who—wait.” Cullen could hear the excitement growing in her voice. “The girl with the stars?”

“Her name’s Gwyn.”

“And?”

“What about her?” he grunted, bending down to get the last bunch of stars in the bag. Almost done, he told himself.

“What’s she like?”

He paused, thinking it over. _Like a light of some kind—absolute warmth._ “She’s good,” he admitted in a soft whisper, fumbling a little with the star in his hand. “More than I deserve.”

“Cullen…”

Two short beeps sounded, causing him to look down at his screen and briefly catch Gwyn’s name flash across the top. He sucked in a quick breath, his heart beating as her name disappeared.

“Speaking of…I’ve got to go,” Cullen winced.

“You promise to call me next week?”

“Cross my heart.”

“Love you, brother. Take care of yourself, alright?”

“You too, Mia.”

He scrambled to find Gwyn’s messages, adjusting the frames of glasses until he got to her name. There they were. Two messages from her.

**[8:42 PM] Am I allowed to beg you to come to the banquet yet?**  
**[8:42 PM] I know you’re busy with your paper, but I will find a way to make it up to you somehow.**  
_[8:43 PM] What about your date?_  
_[8:43 PM] Is everything alright?  
_ **[8:44 PM] Please?**

He carefully considered his options, knowing full well where he’d rather be. With her. Worst case scenario—the date would turn up and Gwyn would leave with him, thereby freeing him to drink himself into a stupor if necessary. On the other hand, being with her would be vastly preferable to finishing his paper any day of the week.

_[8:46 PM] Be there in ten._

Cullen rubbed his face, turning off the lights in Gwyn’s room and hoping that he didn’t look too terribly tired. He went across the hall, tugging off the shirt he was wearing to exchange it for a white button up. He fumbled with the buttons, almost mismatching each one of them before having to redo his work. He grabbed at a tie in his closet, casting a quick glance in his mirror that the product in his hair was still working before he was out the door.

The banquets for the university were typically all the same, but it was clear Josephine and Gwyn had outdone themselves. He was only a block away from the gardens when he began to notice the music. Soft trumpets, and then…he heard it. _I will feel a glow just thinking of you and the way you look tonight_.

The closer he got, the more Cullen found his heart pounding rapidly in his chest. He eyed the small groups gathered together, combing the area for her. She wasn’t near the dance floor—though he could see Mariana dancing with someone Cullen hoped wasn’t Gwyn’s date. Otherwise, there was no sign of her. Not even near Josephine or Leliana, both of whom were chattering away in a large group of prospective benefactors.

“Well, well! Look who managed to show after all,” a boisterous voice called out over the chorus as someone slapped him on the back. Dorian. He stood next to Brennan, his arm wrapped around his waist. Dorian took a sip of the glass in his hand.

“Yeah, I just couldn’t stay away,” he mumbled. Cullen scratched the back of his neck as he glanced around behind them. She had to be around there somewhere. “Have you two seen Gwyn?”

“Last I saw she was with Josephine rubbing elbows with the Dean,” said Dorian with a shrug. “After that, I can’t say.”

“If I see her, I’ll tell her you were looking for her,” Brennan replied. He leaned close, a frown on his lips. “Just so you know, I haven’t seen her with anyone new since we got here. Well, not anyone she wasn’t trying to chat up for money anyway.”

Cullen’s heart fell at Brennan’s words, guilt and shame washing over him. Regardless of his plans, he wanted Gwyn happy, even if it wasn’t with him. He thanked Brennan softly and, as if on cue, Cullen felt his pocket vibrate.

**[9:07 PM] _Are you here yet?_**

He surveyed the crowd once more before responding. 

 _[9:08 PM] Where are you?_  

Minutes passed as he walked the crowd before he finally received a response.

**[9:11 PM] _Help yourself to food and drinks before you come searching for me. (Be sure to try the cupcakes with the strawberries on them!) I’ll be the one looking up._**

Sure enough, away from the crowd, he could make out her figure leaning against the railing of the gazebo, her head tilted upwards.

As requested, he gathered two cupcakes from the tables before approaching to get a better look. Her hair pooled over her shoulders, an intricate braid creating a sort of half-crown near the back. Still wearing the navy dress she’d photographed herself in earlier and her heels discarded at her side, she stood barefoot looking up at the night’s sky. 

“There you are,” he grinned, holding out a cupcake. When she turned to face him, he felt breathless. She met him at the steps of the gazebo, her gaze enough to send him reeling. The picture she’d sent him hadn’t done her justice. “You look…lovely,” he rasped. _Lovely—never, never change._

Gwyn’s eyes widened slightly before they fell to her feet, and Cullen silently chastised himself for not using a better word. She was radiant, _gorgeous_ —much, much more than lovely. Somehow, she managed to flash him a bright smile, brown wisps of hair framing her cheeks, as she caught sight of the cupcakes in his hands.

“There  _you_ are.” She nibbled at the cupcake earnestly as he carefully unwrapped his own. A simple vanilla with a strawberry icing covering it. She was right about the fresh strawberries; they were wonderfully sweet.

“From the Marches?” he asked curiously.

She grinned in the midst of swallowing a mouthful of her cupcake. “Mm. One of the few good things about home,” she sighed.

Not wanting to pry, Cullen waited patiently for her to bring up her date and pushed away the pile of questions building up in his head. _What happened?_ She seemed to be alright, but it didn’t stop him from wondering. He moved to the edge of the gazebo, looking up at the various swirls that lit the night’s sky instead.

“So…” he murmured, glancing back at her. He flexed his fingers, stuffing them in his pockets. “It’s a nice night. You weren’t joking about the stars.”

“It’s beautiful,” she said breathlessly, taking a step beside him. She stared up in silence, her hands gripping the edge of the railing. “You can see Equinor right there.” She began to point out the different stars, but Cullen found himself squinting slightly. Especially after doing a bit of research, he should be used to this by now. He thought he could make out the shape of it, could practically see the tail of it before he leaned closer.

“Where?” he asked, wondering just how genuine it sounded. She moved behind him, peering over his shoulder before grabbing one of his hands.

“See that star there? That’s the point of its tail,” she grinned over at him as she guided him through the constellation. She was so close to him, her arms lined up against his own and her fingers curled around his hand. His heart pounded as she rested her head in the crux of his neck. “And—oh! I have to show you this. Over there is another one of my personal favorites—Fervenial. They call it the oak. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

His lips quirked into a knowing smile, remembering the fondness with which she’d spoken about it. This collective group of lights that she was so incredibly taken with.  “You weren’t wrong—it’s stunning.”

He turned his head, his eyes meeting hers as she relinquished the grip on his hand and stepped in front of him. Her eyes fell to the ground and Cullen’s hand reached out only to fly to his neck. On the corner of her mouth was a small smearing of icing.

“You’ve got…you’ve got a bit just there,” he started, resisting the urge to smile. Her cheeks turned a deep shade of red, her hand instinctively flying to her face to wipe it up. She only smeared it more. Chuckling, his voice lowered. “Let me.”

He carefully wiped the residual icing off with the pad of his thumb, her eyes meeting his. She continued staring, eyes too wide, as if she were waiting for some kind of instruction. His gaze fell to her lips, his fingers lingering for a moment before he was sucked back into reality. Halfway, he reminded himself. They need to meet each other halfway.

He walked across gazebo, gripping the railing before his hand flew to his neck once more.

“Where’s your date?” The words spilled out of him, flopping out so quickly that he instantly regretted asking. The words hung in the air between them and Cullen couldn’t keep from looking at her. He waited for her to do something, to say  _anything_ , but the wait was almost suffocating.

 Maybe it was the fact that she was still standing so close to him, or the fact he just wanted to hold her gaze. Maybe it was how he wanted to look at her longer. More. He was close enough to her that he could see the freckles splayed across her shoulders, disappearing under the blue of her dress.

 She turned her gaze to the side, the scar along her jawline visible. The scar she didn’t talk about, the scar he’d imagined pressing light kisses against.  He wanted to reach out and touch her, wanted to cup her face in his hands and kiss her. Instead, he focused on the space between them. She was leaning against the railing of the gazebo, but it had to be only a few steps. Mere feet.

“Kiss me.” Her voice was a whisper, somewhat shaky. He almost didn’t hear it. Maybe he didn’t.

“Excuse me?” he stammered, swallowing hard. She took a step towards him and he felt like he could hear his heart pounding in his ears.

He wanted to. Maker, there was nothing he wanted more, but every fiber of his being was screaming at him. Feelings like this only made a mess of things and he was already doing a bang up job. “Gwyn, I don’t want--” he faltered. _To ruin our friendship, to lose you._

“Kiss me,” she repeated louder. Her voice was steady, so sure. Suddenly she was rocking on her bare feet, her fingers fidgeting. “I mean, if you want. Not that _I_ don’t want you to, because I do. Want to. Maker’s Breath, I’m fucking this up aren’t I?”

A smile broke out on Cullen’s face as he studied hers—how her eyes fell to her feet and her teeth dug into her bottom lip, her hands kneaded together nervously until she was wiping them on the skirt of her dress. She glanced up at him, and he was certain this couldn’t possibly be real. Any moment he would wake up in a cold sweat within his empty dorm room.

He crossed the gazebo in long strides, holding his breath until she had backed against the railing once more. His hands cupped her face, his fingers becoming familiar with the groove of her scar all over again, the pad of his thumb brushing over the corner of her lip. Cullen’s eyes searched hers– waiting for some kind of sign to tell him she had changed her mind.

She smiled against his palm as he stared at her mouth.

“Andraste’s flaming sword, are you—”

 He kissed her in the middle of the sentence—soft and warm, the sweetest collision he would ever know. Her eyes slowly shut as she melted into him, her fingers winding themselves in the material of his shirt. One of his hands slowly moved to the base of her neck, entangling his fingers in loose curls of her hair. The other hand molded itself against the small of her back as he smiled against her mouth, attempting to process the moment.

Previously, Cullen had seen his life as a straight line with a small series of bullet points that made up pivotal moments. One led up to the next, connecting each dot like the very constellations Gwyn was always pointing out. Yet, kissing Gwyn felt like a sweet explosion.

Feeling bold, his teeth scraped against her bottom lip and it wasn’t long before his tongue met hers. Suddenly the lines connecting each point were crackling, fizzling there as she pushed herself up on the tips of her toes so her lips could find the same urgency as his. Maker, she even _tasted_ of strawberries, the juice still staining her lips. One of her hands moved from his arm to the back of his neck where her fingertips traced the veins there just before burying themselves in his hair.

Breathless, Cullen pulled away just enough for his eyes to glance down to meet hers, his hand still in her hair and his heart still in complete disbelief. Shocked, blue eyes peered up at him. The pad of his thumb brushed against her cheeks, lightly moving to her jawline as he studied her expression.

 “I’m sorry. That was…um…really nice.” he murmured breathlessly. He tried to gauge the look on her face, but his heart pounded wildly when he couldn’t quite read her thoughts. “Is this….was that what you wanted?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, her nose brushed against his, their breath mingling in the air between them. Cullen shut his eyes, part of him afraid she’d no longer be there if he opened them.

“Andraste’s fucking Blessing.” Her voice was soft—lulling him back to reality. He opened his eyes, relief flooding over him as he stared at her, the span of freckles that wrinkled when she grinned, the way her wide eyes studied him. Looking at her, _holding her_ like this felt like he was standing in the sun—an array of warmth he still hadn’t quite become adjusted to. But, oh, it was good.

 “I’m not quite sure if Andraste would appreciate it being worded like that,” he replied, unable to stop the smile spreading across his face.

Cullen ran the pad of his thumb across her scar, trailing the grooves of it until she was smiling against his palm once more. He lowered his mouth to hers, rediscovering the familiarity of her lips. It was as simple as that to him—his worries fading away as she rose to the tips of her toes to meet him all over again. He grinned against her lips, tiny explosions prickling wherever her touch lingered.

It was something that might have scared him in the past. That it might be too much to ask for, that there was too much hope under the weight of this kiss. But, for the moment, it was as welcome as warmth from a fire. 

And, Maker, he wanted more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter art by the wonderful and kind @[degaussedlily](http://degaussedlily.tumblr.com/) from tumblr   
> (Once again, thank you so much, my beautiful friend. <3 )


	12. Uncertainty and Hope

Cullen kissed her. Again. Maker, and she was kissing him back.

She hadn’t expected him to cross the wooden floors of the gazebo. The look in his eyes he had given her just as he took her face in his hands sent her reeling even now. Tentative and hopeful, perhaps? Gwyn still wasn’t sure.

Maker, she hadn’t expected the words “kiss me” to come out of her own mouth at all, yet the shaky question flopped out with little thought. When he looked at her across the gazebo, it was all she wanted and everything she’d been too terrified to ask for. She attempted to rationalize her actions—he _had_ called her beautiful, and held her throughout the night, yet every alarm in her head blared in her ears.  She tried taking the request back, passing some of the burden onto him by giving him an out in some stupid, meek way. Yet, he still crossed the floor and kissed her like it was everything he’d been waiting for.

How did he do it—the ease with which he made her feel _wanted_? Cared for?

A bundle of emotions flowed over her with every second his hands still cupped her cheek. A sort of static ran through her body the longer his lips kissed her until he finally pulled away, his forehead resting against hers.

Her eyes flitted upwards to find his closed, a newfound panic rising in the silence between them. Heart pounding wildly and doubt clouding the space between them, she willed him to open his eyes. Say something, she begged silently. _Anything_.

Maker, what had she done?

“D-do…” she started, slowly lowering her hands from his hair to his chest.

His eyes opened just as hers fell to their feet, one of his hands touching a curl near her shoulder. It bounced slightly at his touch and a short, breathless laugh from his lips seemed to somehow fill her chest. She wanted to both look at him and look away. The equivalent of still being stuck in the middle of that same blasted bridge, caught between wanting to kiss him again and to somehow rewind time to erase it.

Maker, had she screwed up? People didn’t get to come back from things like this. Did they?

“Gwyn?” He lifted her chin and Gwyn blinked hard before finally meeting his gaze. His rough hands gently pulled her from those shadows weighing her down, honeyed eyes searching hers. “Are you...I mean, is everything alright?”

“You don’t…you don’t regret it, do you? I mean, me? Damn it. I mean the kiss? I don’t—” she managed to stammer out.

His eyes widened. “No! Not at all. I just…” The end of his sentence hung there, and Gwyn’s heart wedged its way into her throat, catching itself on every doubtful bone in her body. Just what? “I just don’t want—”

“Gwyn!” She froze at the sound of Leliana’s voice, Gwyn’s eyes falling to her feet once more. Reluctantly, she dropped her hands from Cullen’s chest, taking a step back before wrapping her arms around herself. He offered a half-smile, his face reddening slightly.

Maker, of all times. Why now?

Within seconds, Leliana approached the steps of the gazebo, eyes lingering a little too long on Cullen before looking back at Gwyn. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here, Cullen. Dorian said you had a paper.”

“I, well, yes. I did—I mean, I _do_.”

“Yet you’re here. With Gwyn, I see,” she noted, a sly smile growing on Leliana’s face.

Gwyn didn’t have to look back at Cullen to imagine the deep shade of red on his cheeks. That was the last thing she wanted—Cullen embarrassed and second guessing himself. Gwyn stammered, fighting to come up with some sort of response. Instead, she remained caught up on starting phrase after phrase. Each word turning to ash until she gasped at the feeling of Cullen’s shaking hand on the small of her back. Unsure, he reluctantly pulled his hand away.

Clearing his throat, he shoved his hands in his pockets. His fingers desperately grasping for the coin nestled at the bottom, the pad of his thumb running over the grooves on its face. “I believe you were looking for Gwyn?” he reminded stiffly.

“Yes. Josie wanted me to tell you that we’re ready for you to make the closing statement, but…” She paused, covering her mouth to hide the giggle that grew louder and louder. “It looks like she’s got her hands full.”

Cullen shook his head, his voice strained. “Maker’s Breath, Leliana.”

“Could I just have…” Gwyn started, swallowing thickly as fear bubbled in her chest. All she needed was a minute or two more with Cullen. Just to talk—that was all. But it was impossible not to miss the way Cullen shifted awkwardly next to her, his hand massaging his neck and cheeks still a deep shade of red.

Oh no.

Doubt slowly crept back in. She could already see it all happening in some kind of slow motion—first, the embarrassment, then the sinking feeling of regret swallowing him, and then the slow settling of withdrawal between the two of them.  Another Aidan, except something worse. A loss of something much greater, and it was all her fault.

There was too much at stake and she’d thrown it away all too easily with two words. _Kiss me_. What was she thinking? How foolish could one person be? Damn her.

“I suppose I should give that speech,” Gwyn whispered, her voice wavering as she rubbed her arms nervously. Leliana’s brows lifted, her gaze drifting from Cullen back to her until Gwyn gripped her elbows tightly. A poor attempt to keep from fidgeting. Gwyn glanced back at Cullen, offering a weak attempt at a smile before biting the inside of her cheek. She started walking with Leliana, meekly mumbling goodnight to Cullen as she picked up her shoes. Tears welled in her eyes and the need to get away grew greater with each step.

“Are you alright,” she vaguely heard Leliana whisper at her side. She felt Leliana’s hand gently running up and down her back. “You both looked so nervous—I only meant to tease the two of you.”

 “It’s not that.”

She wanted both. She wanted the friend that would answer her calls at four in the morning when she couldn’t sleep, yet she wanted his arms around her, lips pressed against hers and fingers tracing circles on her skin so much that it would somehow feel permanent. The more the lines seemed blurred, the harder it became to ensure all of those things were possible. Were they?

 “Gwyn, wait.” She held her breath at the sound of Cullen’s voice, hoarse and quiet. Out of the corner of her eyes, Gwyn watched him approach. His strides were long, one of his hands raking through his hair the closer he got. He stepped in front of her, their shoulders brushing for only a moment as Gwyn fought to keep her knees from buckling. He stepped closer. Close. The toes of his shoes practically touching her bare feet, his hands reaching out momentarily only to clench them tightly at his sides. “Could I have just a moment?”

Leliana let out a soft sigh, but nodded. “I’ll see what I can about stalling for a few more minutes.”

Cullen glanced up at Gwyn, amber eyes studying blue until his head dipped towards hers. She wanted to kiss him, to take his hands in hers, but fought the urge boiling under her skin. Maker, was this how it was always going to be? Crumbling under the pressure of simply wanting to take Cullen’s hand and worrying about every possible if and why? It should be simple.

 She asked him to kiss her and he’d done it. Maker, she kissed him back. Simple.

“Forgive me, I’m just a little…” Cullen trailed off, laughing nervously as he rubbed at his neck. Eyes still on hers, he took the shoes from her clutches and set them on the grass beside them. “All of that at the gazebo…that _is_ what you wanted, wasn’t it? Because, Maker, I thought…” he set his jaw, frowning. His chin tilted down towards the ground, towards their feet. Yet, she noticed that even as he wiped his palms on his pants, he continued looking at her out of the tops of his eyes.  “Have I ruined everything?”

Gwyn wasn’t sure how to answer. Her toes curled in the grass, her eyes looking everywhere but at him. “I shouldn’t…If anyone ruined anything, it’s me. I took advantage of the situation, of you.”

“What?” he spluttered, lifting his chin and looking her directly in the eye. “I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t want it. Earlier, you asked me if I regretted it and I don’t.”

She played with the hem of her dress, forcing her eyes back down to the ground. “An-and if that changes?”

“What? Why would…I mean—Maker, I’m not very good at this.” He shook his head, his hands tentatively reaching for hers. His thumbs grazed her knuckles, one after another as Gwyn swallowed large amounts of air. He lifted her chin with one hand, the half-smile twitching on his face bringing out those soft dimples she always liked to see. “It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted… _anyone_ in my life the way you are, or the way I _want_ you to be. I’m not going to give up whatever this is so easily—not unless you wanted me to.”

Her mouth fell open, Gwyn swaying slightly as if a coil was slowly unwinding itself around her shoulders. “Oh.”

Cullen’s thumb gently ran over Gwyn’s jawline, his eyes moving from her lips to her eyes. Bewildered, he tucked a strand of hair behind the shell of her ear. “Why would you think I’d change my mind?”

Her thumb curled under his. His stupid, _wonderful_ large hand. Long fingers and rough palms that she wanted to memorize each second she was allowed. Gwyn swallowed, the grip of her hand in his tightening.  

“Because people always leave,” she managed, trying her hardest to keep her voice from cracking. “Did you know I don’t know where my real mother is? She asked my father to take us- Brennan and I- and just…disappeared. Then Aidan? These ridiculous dates I keep attempting? Gone. Do you see them here? It seems I practically have some kind of a track record.”

His thumb brushed over her cheek. “Gwyn—”

She blinked, shaking her head and cutting him off. “Aside from Brennan- _you_ are the most important person in my life and I…I don’t think I’m quite ready to lose that.”

“You won’t—”

 _Because I’m already in love with you._ He took a breath, thinking the words over and over and tasting them on his tongue. _I love you._ Could he tell her that? Would it only make things worse, burning the invisible bridge between them? Would it strengthen it somehow? Maker, it seemed too much to wager.

Instead his eyes fell to their hands, to the way their fingers seemed to bend around each other’s. His thumb brushed over the length of hers before bringing them to his lips. Her short, slightly curved fingers—her entire hand softer and smaller than his own.

How did one hold onto the lines that tethered one person to another? He knew all too well the ways they stretched and slackened, yet the one between he and Gwyn seemed tangled for so long.

He wrapped his free arm around her to pull her close, their clasped hands still woven and pressed against his chest. He placed her palm there, each beat of his heart faster than the last.   _I love you. I love you. I love you,_ every one of them seemed to say.

He forced himself to push the words down, his lips pressing themselves against her temple once more.

“You have a speech to give,” he whispered into her hair, his voice hoarse. His stubble lightly scratched against her cheek as she nodded, and Cullen’s lips grazed her cheeks for only a moment. He took her tear-streaked face in his hands, looking her in the eyes as his thumbs wiped away each stray tear. He swallowed the words building in his chest, smiling down at her the way he knew she needed him to. “You’ll do great, Gwyn.”

She scrambled for her shoes, grabbing onto Cullen’s arm out of instinct as she struggled slipping each one on her feet. “We’ll talk more, won’t we? Whatever this is…” She gestured between them, her teeth digging into her bottom lip, “It’s not completely over, is it?”

He saw the answer in flickers. Her mouth dropping open in pure amazement at the view above her. The taste of strawberries on her lips each and every time they kissed. Tears on her face as he told her he loved her. The sound of her laugh as he kissed each freckle on her neck. The feel of her fingers carding through his hair, tickling the skin at the back of his neck.

“Cullen?”

His hand clenched around the coin in his pocket.

“No.”


	13. Memories and Distractions

Not wanting to draw any more attention to himself before he left, Cullen kept his distance at the edge of the crowd gathering around the stage. Immediately his eyes trained on Gwyn standing off to the side, nodding along to the assurances Josephine was undoubtedly giving her. Even at this distance, he could make out the way her hands wound into the material of her dress a little too tight before she took her place.

He’d seen her give speeches before. Heard her practice them in the living room with Cassandra and Dorian while he worked on homework in his room, caught her in the middle of practicing in empty classrooms before and after meetings.

The first time he stumbled upon her in the act—she paced back and forth in an empty room, fingers curled around notecards as her voice fluctuated between different volumes. Her lips pursed in each pause she took, a frustrated curse filling the room as she settled down onto a nearby desk with a thud.

Cullen had already started backing out of the room when she lifted her head in his direction, bleary blue eyes meeting his gaze. He blushed, a clenched fist rising to the back of his neck. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to intrude. I just—”

“Cullen.” Her face broke into a breathtaking smile, her hands quick to wipe away any trace of stray tears. She moved to her feet, taking a few steps towards him. He remembered counting each one, watching the slight rise and fall of her shoulders. “I was just practicing for the meeting later.”

“O-of course.” He offered her a small smile, an attempt at recovering and hopefully causing the red of his cheeks to fade. “I…I can come back later?”

“Actually, I—” Gwyn paused, eyes falling to the floor and hands slightly crumpling the notecards. She chewed her lip, taking two more steps towards him. “Would you mind staying?” His brow furrowed and Gwyn blushed, one of her hands tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear. “I could use some advice.”

“Oh!” Cullen’s eyes widened as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Surely Josephine would be the better choice for a situation like this?” The question breached his thoughts before he could stop it, spilling out just in time to watch the way Gwyn’s face fell. Her gaze fell to the ground as she unfolded her notecards, awkwardly smoothing the crinkled papers. “I…I just mean I’m not exactly qualified. Josephine is much more eloquent when it comes to public speaking.”

Gwyn rocked on her heels, eyes wandering around the room before meeting his gaze. “I’m…I’m not asking Josephine. I want you.”

The words warmed his entire body. His hands immediately pushed up his glasses then flew to his neck, needing to touch _something_. “Oh.”

She took another step only to take it back, her cheeks flushing at the lack of space she’d set between them. “I mean…you don’t have to help me, certainly not if you don’t want to. I just— you speak so clearly and when you talk, people _listen_ …and I can barely get a sentence out before I start embarrassing myself. You’re my…” she fumbled with the words, wrestling with the rest of the sentence. Her eyes glued themselves to the grey floors of the classroom. “If you’re not too busy, I would appreciate your help.”

He smiled at her, knowing full well where she was coming from. He understood how uncomfortable it could be, more than a dozen pair of eyes looking up at you and expecting you to say either what they need or want to hear.

He pulled the strap of his bag over his head, nodding towards the notecards in her hand. “To work then?”  

So he helped her when he could. They met in empty classrooms before Inquisition meetings, practiced in Cullen’s room on the weekends.

 “Louder,” he told her. “Breathe and slow down, Gwyn. The faster you speak, the more nervous you seem, and you’ll be fighting to be properly heard and understood.”

“That’s too much to keep in mind at all at once, and of course I seem nervous. Fuck, Cullen, I _am_ nervous,” Gwyn whined, flopping down on the edge of Cullen’s bed. She twisted her braid in her hands, turning it around until she could no longer stand it and buried her face in her heads. “I can’t do this. I’m not…I _loathe_ talking in public.”

“Does anyone actually enjoy it?” Cullen snorted, causing a small smile to grow behind Gwyn’s hands. She shifted her fingers, just enough that he could see one blue eye. “Listen—what is it that troubles you most about speaking in front of everyone? What causes you to panic about it?”

Her hands dropped to her lap as she pursed her lips, and it wasn’t long before she began fidgeting. “Everything,” she whispered. “It’s this…sinking feeling that seems to process every bloody ‘what if.’ But it gets worse when everyone _stares,_ because I know they’re expecting this _idea_ of me. Not the person trying to catch their breath and stammering like a fool in front of them.”

Cullen shifted on his bed, settling on the edge of the mattress beside her. “You’re not a fool, well, certainly not because you get nervous or stammer.” Her lips twitched into a smile, a deep red flushing her cheeks before her shoulder playfully nudged his own.

“If only I were fearless, eh?”

His lips twitched at her words, a short burst of laughter leaving him. “No one is, Gwyn.”

A pause. Another nudge of her shoulder.

“You are.”

Cullen’s jaw tightened, his entire body following suit. “I’m not,” he corrected in a low voice, unable to hide his frown.

She didn’t know the details of his past, not at the time. But he would have been lying if he didn’t admit that he felt the truth boiling underneath his skin, bubbling away and waiting to be shared with her. Instead he dragged his palm over his neck, massaging the flesh there until he caught the sad look on her face.

“Maker, I’m not very good at this,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re…” _Compassionate. Sweet. Perhaps much kinder than I deserve._ He swallowed the rest of his list down, assuring her with a small smile.  “You mean well.”

She cocked her head, studying him in the silence before she finally leaned forward. As her brow furrowed in curiosity, he became aware of just how close Gwyn truly was. A few centimeters. Close enough he could have a hand at trying to count each freckle that dusted her face.

“Have you always worn glasses?” she mused, breaking the silence.

The question caused heat to wash over his face and he raked a hand through his hair. “N-no, actually.”

A consequence of no longer taking lyrium. His vision became blurred during the worst of his withdrawals, and it never truly corrected. Maker, the headaches were painful by themselves, but they often made reading impossible. 

She pursed her lips at this, considering the comment. Seconds passed and Cullen forced himself to look away. He couldn’t place her look, but he saw the wheels turning in her head. That she was trying to figure him out and knew there was a story he wasn’t quite ready to share.

“You’re comfortable with certain people, yes?” he asked, hoping she didn’t notice the change in subject.

“I suppose,” she whispered, shifting in her spot. “Some more than others.” Her eyes darted towards him for a moment too long, and he wasn’t sure if he simply imagined it.  He hoped—Maker, did he hope he hadn’t.

He swallowed, much too hard. “Find one of them. Imagine them, if you must. Keep your gaze moving throughout the crowd, if you can manage it, but you’re speaking to _them_.”

His lips upturned at the mere memory of Gwyn sitting at his side, her fidgeting coming to a stop as her body suddenly leaned into him. The tip of her foot gently knocked against his leg and the moment her head rested on his shoulder, she laughed. At the time, his lungs seemed to constrict at her touch, her body and breath warming him far more than he imagined it would. _Rutherford, I’m beginning to think you’re so much more than what you let on_ , she told him.

Her words filled him with trepidation at the time. For days, he considered the weight of them. He simply couldn’t imagine the notion that she could see the parts he’d done his best to keep shielded, or that she was somehow slowly peeling away layers of armor he didn’t even know about. There were very few who endeavored to try, but each day she showed up at his door unprompted, dinner in hand and a smile on her face. Just like that—his trepidation turned to hope.

And, now, as he watched as Gwyn take to the stage, he worried that layer of comfortability they reached with one another could easily shatter. Those flickers of hope he clutched at moments before were so fragile, and, Maker, he wanted them so badly. No—her. He just wanted her. Perhaps too much.

That was a thing, wasn’t it? Wanting something too much that you smothered it on accident?

He fisted his hands in his pockets at the thought, fingers tightly curling around whatever he could grasp. His phone. The lone coin he carried everywhere. His thumb brushed over its face as Gwyn adjusted the microphone.

“Esteemed fac- _faculty_.” She tripped over the word, her eyes widening for a fraction of a second. Her face grew pale and Cullen’s body tensed in time with hers. Gwyn’s hands wrapped around the stand briefly before they moved to her dress, fingers already winding in the material. She cleared her throat, the sound causing a hushed whisper to fall over the crowd that Gwyn’s eyes hadn’t even met yet.

_It’s nothing—you’re fine. Take a breath and look up. Find Brennan. Dorian. Look up._

He raked a hand through his hair, massaging the skin at the back of his neck as he helplessly watched Gwyn try to recover. She flashed a nervous smile, her eyes still focusing on the ground as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The red tinging her cheeks was noticeable even at Cullen’s distance, and he fought the urge to move.

A slew of curses filled his head. It was his fault. He’d distracted her. Her mind was probably grasping at several thoughts at once—the dull thrum of uncertainty she’d practiced quieting now relentless.

If he could’ve, Maker, the selfish part of him would’ve told her not to go on at all. That what was going on between them was more important, that talking couldn’t wait. He considered pushing past the crowd, making it easier for her to find his eyes like they’d practiced time and time again in the privacy of his room. Instead, he remained rooted in his spot, his eyes glued to Gwyn’s every movement.

“Faculty, students, alumni, and revered guests.” This time the words tumbled from her lips, practically streaming together as each one came out faster than the last, and her hands became hidden behind her back. The whispers continued, blanketing the crowd as she finally looked up. Her mouth hung open, grasping for words until panicked blue eyes settled on Cullen.

Out of an instinct, he took a step forward, but caught himself from taking another. This wasn’t an empty classroom or his room. Things were complicated enough, weren’t they? But, Maker, he felt useless just watching her shrinking further away into herself.

His eyes poured over Gwyn—her shoulders tensed up long ago and her eyes remained locked on his, wide and silently pleading for some kind of help. Her hands were now at her side, clenched tightly instead of hidden away from the crowd—which was a good sign to Cullen at least. It meant she stopped fidgeting. That she was halfway there all on her own.

Cullen’s back straightened, the beginning of a smirk on his face. She could do this. How many times had she turned Inquisition meetings around, putting her foot down and commanding attention throughout the room just like he’d discussed with her? _You’re doing fine._ He mouthed the words, hoping the encouragement would be seen.

How many nights had Gwyn done the same for him? Countless texts— all positive, all hopeful. Evenings that he came home to food on his coffee table and Gwyn nudging a bowl of soup in his direction, a smirk on her face because she knew- Maker, she always seemed to know- he’d been too busy to make time to eat earlier in the day. 

Doubt etched its way across her face, but his didn’t waver as her shoulders relaxed. Even though her breaths couldn’t be heard, he saw the steady rise and fall of her chest. Her eyes never left his as she took a step back towards the microphone.

“Forgive me. One too many of those incredible strawberry cupcakes and I’ve sent myself into a bit of a daze it seems,” she joked, an edge of nerves still bundling there as she scanned the crowd. Chuckles filled the space between them but she cleared her throat, unwavering in the whispers that remained. “The show of support for the student union here at Skyhold University this evening has been incredible. As a new student to the university, I’m honored to be a part of such an amazing and supportive group of peers, and am proud of the strides we’ve made to keep our campus active and inclusive. It is tonight that all of us have shared pieces of what makes this campus great and how we hope to continue what we’ve only just begun.”

She held her head high with every word she spoke and Cullen’s face beamed in response. Her eyes flicked back to his, and- this time- Cullen relished every second he knew it wasn’t simply just in his imagination.

 “Colin.”

He recognized the voice the second it pulled his attention away from Gwyn’s. Shrill and short. A natural air of arrogance accompanied it that he’d only heard a handful of times, but the sound caused his jaw to tighten.

“ _Cullen_ ,” he muttered, his eyes not leaving the stage. “I would think you’d know my name by now, Mariana.”

She laughed and Cullen winced at the very sound of it. She leaned towards him, her breath uncomfortably too close for Cullen’s liking. A look of delight flashed across her face as she watched his jaw twitch. “I know more than enough about you.”

“That’s surprising, considering you seem to barely remember my name.”

“Forgive me. I suppose I’m just used to remembering more…notable ones.”

Cullen rolled his eyes. “So what brings you here? Have you come to _actually_ support your sister or have you been far too busy ripping happiness from her fingers?”

She sucked in a breath, a smirk on her face. “Those are harsh words coming from a lyrium addict.” Cullen refused to meet Mariana’s gaze, instead keeping them focused on the stage. On Gwyn. “Forgive me— _recovering_ lyrium addict.”

His eyes fell momentarily. A short laugh left his lips before he rubbed at his mouth with the palm of his hand. “Incredible.”

“Hm?”

“You come here and flit around as if you know us, pretending to have your sister’s best interests in mind—”

“I do!”

“What you _do_ is try to break her,” he spat, finally turning away from the stage. “You pick at cracks that were created long ago and pretend it’s somehow for her benefit.”

“It _is_.”

“Really? I could’ve sworn it was for yours.” Cullen shifted, his eyes lifting back to the stage. “At least here, there are those who care about her, believe in her.”

“You know what I think? No, what I know? Gwyneth and Brennan may be bastards—”

Cullen closed his eyes, sucking in a breath at the word. He could take whatever she had to say about himself, but not his friends. Especially not Gwyn. “They’re _people_ —living, breathing people who, in case you’ve forgotten, are still your siblings even if their mother isn’t the same as yours. Maker, do you _hear_ yourself when you speak?”

“What I _know_ is that my mother will never let either of them ruin the Trevelyan name any more than they already drag it through the mud. And you? This folly that exists between you and her? I listen to the way she talks about you—like you’re some kind of gift from the Maker when you and I know the truth. It will never last and what you _are?_ ” She sneered at him, the smirk on her face growing wider at the frown settling on Cullen’s lips.  Applause burst in front of them as Gwyn finished her speech, but Mariana leaned close. “You know it as well as I do, Cullen. You _will_ fail her.”

His mouth dried at Mariana’s words, his hands needing to do _something_. He fisted them into his pockets, his fingers curling around his phone. His mouth twitched, the scar undoubtedly wrinkling in response.

“You aren’t saying anything about me that I haven’t told myself before, Mariana.” He took a step forward, taking a deep breath. “Maker, I may never deserve any part of her. I certainly have never deserved her continual kindness or even the damned smile she puts on her face each morning. I know that more than anyone. But you? One day the things you do will make her feel _ruined_ , and I will be damned before I let you pick Gwyn apart like that.”

Mariana’s eyes widened as he took another step forward, his grip tightening around his phone even further. “For once, allow Gwyn to be happy here on her own. She doesn’t need anyone, especially you, trying to do it for her.”

His feet moved of their own volition, wanting to carry him farther away from Mariana and her words. _She was right about him_. The thought coiled in the back of his head, repeating itself until he found himself physically attempting to massage it out. He rubbed at his neck, letting out a deep breath as he pulled out his phone.

He typed out message after message to Gwyn, hesitating after sending the third one. The blinking cursor stared him in the face as he made his way towards his apartment. He already wanted to tell her so much more—that he knew he didn’t have much in the way of money, that he’d made his fair share of mistakes and would possibly make more, but he wanted nothing more than to see her happy. Even if nothing ever developed further between them—that was all that mattered.

He pushed through the door of the building, and found himself running his tongue over his lips.

Strawberries.

The taste was there, somehow still lingering on the tip of his tongue. Strange. Before, he always imagined that Gwyn’s lips would somehow taste of the hot chocolate she carried to class each morning, always wondered if he’d be able to notice how much extra cocoa she often requested.

He couldn’t recall the last time he ate strawberries before tonight. Yet, the memory of Gwyn’s lips still stained with the juices was fresh in his mind. Sweet, slightly tart. He missed that already, the taste on her tongue. Maker, the feeling of her arms draped across his shoulders and her fingers raking through his hair.

He wanted to feel it all again, if Gwyn would allow him that chance. He licked his lips a second time as he made his way upstairs, a half-smile on his face each time he tried to reclaim the taste. Still just as sweet, but almost gone.

When he reached the door to his apartment, he stopped, glancing over his shoulder to look at the door to Gwyn’s apartment. Just as he left it hours before—pale stars plastered and waiting to be discovered. The panic settled in, coiling itself at the base of his neck and accentuating every pulse of self-doubt in his body. Mariana’s words certainly echoed there, one uncomfortable thought after another that snaked into his mind and gave him pause.

He considered going back in and undoing his work– peeling each plastic star off the surface of the off-white ceiling in her bedroom. His hand fumbled for the key Cassandra gave him to their apartment, the pad of his thumb running over the small notches of its blade.

_You are the most important person in my life._

He wasn’t going to run from here—certainly not from Gwyn and certainly not because of someone who barely knew him. That was the last thing he wanted.

He turned his attention back to his phone, not waiting for a response from Gwyn.  
  
**[11:03 PM] Do me a favor, if you don’t mind. Go home first when you’ve finished at the banquet. Change into something more comfortable (if you want), and get that pint of ice cream I know you’re keeping hidden away out before you come over. The bet? If you look at the stars tonight, I’m confident you’ll see Fervenial. I'll collect whenever you're ready.**

He licked his lips once more, smiling at his sudden burst of confidence. At the presumption her lips would taste of hot cocoa, her tongue some kind of mixture of chocolate and whipped cream. 

“Strawberries.”

Maker, he could live a good life on strawberries.


	14. Seeing Stars

Her phone was a weight the longer it remained in her hand, notifications lighting up the screen every few minutes she left the messages unopened. She watched names appear out of the corner of her eye, predicting each message as she forced herself to shake the hands of men that barely looked her in the eye.

One of them, she knew was from Brennan—no doubt alerting her that he planned to drag Dorian to some ice cream parlor he mentioned earlier in the evening. Another happened to be from Cassandra—either congratulating her on the successful night or passing on the message that she would be going out for drinks and a game of Wicked Grace after cleaning up. Probably both, if Gwyn knew her well enough. The others were from Cullen—one notification after another that had her scanning the remaining groups of people still straggling in the gardens.

She looked for his head of hair away from the gathering, a wave of uneasiness washing over her when he wasn’t seen.  _ He left.  _ Her heart thudded as she scanned the gardens once more.  _ Why do I bugger everything up?  _ Curses filled her thoughts momentarily only to be pushed to the side for worse. She stumbled through the ‘what if’s’ and ‘well, maybe’s’ only to feel a light squeeze on her wrist.

“You need a moment?” Josephine’s brows knitted together, her thumb creating small circles on Gwyn’s skin. She leaned close, taking a moment to wrap an arm around Gwyn’s waist and pull her away. “It’s been a long night—get some water and catch your breath for as long as you need.”

“I’m fine, honestly—”

“Leliana and I are more than capable to handle the rest of the guests. Bull and Krem are already halfway finished cleaning up with the rest of the crew—you’re  _ fine _ . It’s perfectly acceptable to take a break. You’ve already finished the most difficult parts of the night and you didn’t even think you could manage that, my friend.” She flashed a grin before gently pushing Gwyn forward. “Now go check that phone of yours—you’ve only been stealing glances at the screen every ten minutes.”

She didn't argue. Instead, she found herself sitting on the steps of the gazebo minutes later, her fingers tracing some of the names marked there before fumbling with the screen of her phone. 

Her hands were sweating, even trembling as she passed over the kind congratulations she’d predicted from her brother and Cassandra. Her thumb hovered over Cullen’s contact photo, eyes darting between the beginning of his messages and the soft stare of his picture. 

She held her breath, thumb pressing down a little too hard on his projected name to reveal the rest of his texts. 

[ **10:47 PM] You were fantastic, Gwyn. Can’t say I’m too surprised—always knew you could draw people in with your words.**

**[10:47 PM] Think I’ll call it a night—had some unwanted attention and it was a bit too much for me, I’m afraid. But you looked beautiful, truly.**

**[10:48 PM] I still want to talk about…Maker, just about everything. When you’re ready, of course. If I don't talk to you later, I hope you have a good night and at least get some rest.**

_ Beautiful. _ There was that word again. 

Her eyes drifted to the railing of the gazebo, her fingers running over the names carved there. Each one jagged, whether they were big or small. She couldn’t stop her tongue from darting over her lips, trying to conjure the taste that Cullen's lips had left hours ago. Frosting. Sweet and light on her tongue. A hint of strawberries. 

Her fingers brushed against the smile growing on her lips, her eyes falling on a small, blank section of wood on the railing just above where she sat. 

_ Would Cullen want to carve their names?  _

Her skin prickled at the thought. Yet, the question was almost laughable. They'd only kissed, but that was the tradition. Wasn’t it? Share your first kiss there and receive Andraste’s Blessing? 

_ No. Of course not.  _

Gwyn reread the messages, nerves bubbling the more she turned his words over and over in her mind. He wanted to talk. That was a good sign, wasn't it? She scrolled through his three messages with one thumb, her teeth gnawing on the nail of the other all the while.

She frowned, her stomach twisting at the realization she’d have to respond. Maker, what would she even say? _ I like you, how you make me feel, and the way you kiss, please don’t stop being my friend if--no, when I disappoint you? _

“Something on your mind, Gwyneth?”

She winced at the name, looking up to greet her sister’s face. The corner of Mariana’s lips lifted as she leaned against the wood of the gazebo, sharp nails picking at the paint. 

“I didn't realize you were still here, Mariana.” Gwyn frowned as she brought herself to her feet, realizing she had gone the whole night without even speaking to her. A tinge of guilt settled under her skin. “Tonight's been…so  _ long.  _ I'm sorry I haven't even taken the time to welcome you back.” 

She eyed her sister’s emerald dress, wanting to hate it. It was too formal for the event-- too elegant, too flashy. The truth was that every part of it enhanced Mariana’s figure, from the material hugging her hips to the slit that showed off her long legs. “You look beautiful.” 

Mariana blinked, ignoring the compliment, as her green eyes fell to the railing in front of her. “It's unfortunate,” she whispered. Mariana picked at the carvings further, letting out a soft sigh. “That this is the life you've chosen. Shoddy school. Less than respectable peers--”

“ _ Chosen?”  _ Each word seemed to suck the air from Gwyn’s lungs. She gripped her phone tighter, wishing the object would ground her somehow. Pressure built up inside of her the longer she kept quiet. It bubbled under her skin, tears threatening to rise at the prickling of conflict. She swallowed, forcing herself to keep the tears buried deep. “Have...have I done something, Mariana?” 

She snorted, the sound a blade to the air between them. “Have you taken a good look at your friends, Gwyneth? We’re  _ Trevelyans _ . Some of us, anyway.” She brushed flecks of paint from her fingers. “I won't even get started on the lyrium addict.”

Gwyn stilled at the words, her heart lodged somewhere in her throat. “ _ Don't _ .” 

“Excuse me?” Mariana stopped picking at the name  _ Fenris _ , her eyes snapping towards Gwyn. “That's what he is. Don't do him any disservice by pretending he's anything more.”

Gwyn’s hands shook, heat boiling under her skin as she lifted herself to her feet. Her fingers tightened around her phone still, fearing it would only fall and shatter hanging there-- a precarious thought that pulled her steps away from her step-sister. “Don't you  _ dare  _ pretend to know him. Cullen is my  _ friend.  _ I care for him more than--”

Mariana’s eyes widened before a loud laugh left her lips. “Friend? You can be friends with a donkey but it doesn't change the fact it's an ass. I told him as-”

“Told him?” Gwyn’s heart pounded in her ears, her hands shaking.  _ Unwanted attention.  _ “What did you tell him?”

She picked flecks of paint from underneath her nail. “I simply reminded him what he is.”

“Y-you didn't.” Gwyn’s heart sank, her skin growing hot. Her voice shook as tears spilled down her cheeks, helpless and angry. “How  _ dare  _ you. He’s so much more than that.”

“Oh, don't be so dramatic. Besides, you'd have to be daft to not realize he sees you as less than a friend. You're no different than the lyrium he probably hides. You are merely an object. A prize to be won and made a fool of just like before-”

“Mariana-” Her voice rose, and Gwyn fought the urge to run.

“With Aidan.” The name hung in the air, a biting reminder that had Gwyn’s hand flying to the scar on her jawline. Mariana took a step forward, her thin fingers reaching for Gwyn’s face. “You’re too naive to realize that Cullen will leave--”

“I want you to leave.” Gwyn pushed Mariana’s hand away, taking another breath to steel herself. She set her jaw, staring directly into her step-sister’s darkened eyes. “Now.”

“There you go again--”

Gwyn shook her head. “Leave. I may be used to being your punching bag. But you don't get to do this-- certainly not to Brennan when he's finally happy and healthy. And not to Cullen when he's made so much progress and he's trying so hard  _ every  _ day just to cope. He's made mistakes and working through them as best as he can. He’s a good friend, a  _ good man _ . I would be...” She paused, eyes falling to a blank spot on the railing before darting back to Mariana. “I would be lucky to have even a fraction of his affections. And this  _ shoddy  _ school? There’s no place I’d rather be.”

“Gwyneth--”

“Maker, aren't you tired? I know  _ I  _ am. For as long as I can remember I've been vying for the approval of you and your mother and wondered what  _ more  _ I could do to try to repair our family. My father- who is the one who cheated, not Brennan or I, mind you- would ask  _ us _ to be kinder and I'd do it only to be met with sneers a-and abuse time and time again.” Gwyn shook, fingers trembling further as she wiped her cheeks and turned her back on her sister. “Go back to Ostwick and tell your mother that I acted out or whatever you want. I don’t care, but leave Brennan, Cullen, and my friends out of your schemes.” 

Gwyn didn’t look back as she walked back to her apartment. Instead she looked up, searching the sky for the stars as a hand instinctively raked through the loose curls of her hair. The darkened sky once lit with dozens among dozens of stars had become filled with clouds, a grey film blocking each constellation.

It seemed apt that the sky would look as weighted with darkness as Gwyn felt with Mariana’s words. Even as she made it inside the stairwell of her building, each step felt heavier than the last. She tapped her fingers on her phone’s back, her front teeth worrying at her bottom lip all the while. 

She wanted to talk to Cullen, to apologize for Mariana and for muddling his night. She wanted to hear his voice or see his face and know that Mariana didn't take something from him. Hope was hard enough to scramble for on a daily basis.

The idea that Mariana could take that from him, that she could systematically dislodge weeks or months of progress with just the venom of a few words? Gwyn wiped her face with the palm of her hand at the thought. No one deserved that. 

Maker, what if he changed his mind after sending those texts and didn’t want to her see her tonight? Let alone talk to her? What if he was asleep when she called? She bit the inside of her cheek, fingers still tapping against her phone’s case. She'd call tomorrow morning. No, before bed. 

It wasn't until she reached her floor, fumbling to unlock her phone, that she realized she'd missed a text from Cullen.

**[11:03 PM] Do me a favor, if you don’t mind. Go home first when you’ve finished at the banquet. Change into something more comfortable (if you want), and get that pint of ice cream I know you’re keeping hidden away out before you come over. The bet? If you look at the stars tonight, I’m confident you’ll see Fervenial. I'll collect whenever you're ready**

She stared at his message as she walked down the hall, unable to stop the smile growing on her lips. She paused outside her door, letting her shoulder rest against its frame as she typed out a response. 

_ [12:03 AM] I’m afraid the clouds didn't catch wind of your Fereldan confidence tonight. More cookie dough for me. :) _

Was the smile emoji too much? Did his message mean he'd be waiting for her? Maker, what if he'd given up and already gone to sleep by now? She reread her own message, hesitating for only a moment as her finger hovered over the ‘send’ button.’ Holding her breath, she watched it appear in the bubble before her. 

The door to Gwyn’s apartment unlocked with a click, and she wondered if he was even awake across the hall. She imagined him sitting at his desk, tired eyes pouring over articles and documents. She thought of his brow furrowed in concentration, while his glasses slid down the slope of his nose until he pushed them up in frustration with a low growl. 

Her phone buzzed as she opened her bedroom door. 

**[12:05 AM] It’s still early.**

_ [12:05 AM] It’s midnight, Cullen. Plus, you know I have this entire pint to eat.  _

**[12:06 AM] Early.**

**[12:06 AM] And, if I may be so bold, I wouldn't claim that pint quite yet.**

She grinned, her body relaxing at the familiar tone of Cullen's texts. Things were still the same. Well, as much as they could be. But there was still so much to talk about. 

It wasn't until her phone dimmed that she noticed the soft glow reflected on the darkened screen. She looked up, letting out a soft gasp at the scene above her. 

Dozens upon dozens of plastic glow-in-the-dark stars covered her ceiling. Each one strategically  placed to create a map of several constellations. Gwyn’s eyes darted over the stars, wanting to take in every cluster created. The arches of Solium began at her door while smaller stars swirled around the image and led to the hilt of Judex.

Her heart thudded the longer she studied the curves of Equinor above her desk. She dipped her head back, wanting to take it all in at once. Each constellation was in its rightful place-- a map spread across each corner of her bedroom. Except one. Fervenial was not in the far corner of the room near the wings of Draconis where she expected to find it. Instead its branches stretched just over the head of her pillow-- each star meticulously placed in her personal sky.

She swallowed, her throat thick with questions and emotions boiling inside of her. Heat crept up her cheeks as she craned her neck further, blinking away the beginning of tears. How did he do this?  _ When _ did he do this? 

It couldn't have been Cullen No. Brennan, perhaps. He and Dorian left the banquet early. They'd have had plenty of time. Or maybe Cassandra? She was the only one with a key.

She chewed her lip, stopping its wobble as she stared. It didn't make sense. People didn’t do things like this. Why would Cullen? She had too many scars. Was too quiet. Maker, she could hardly bring herself to look anyone in the eye, even if he was one of the few people she  _ wanted  _ to look at.

He was probably just being kind. After all, there was a sliver of truth to Mariana’s words about her. People didn’t stay for her. Aidan didn't. They got want they wanted out of her and moved on. They left. 

Right,  _ kind.  _ Just a simple thing among friends. The kiss was…well, it  _ was  _ her fault. A random impulse just to know for a second of what it'd be like to be wanted by someone. By him.  _ But he didn't regret it.  _

Her eyes studied Fervenial, at the lines creating the length of its trunk and each crooked branch. His touch was in every piece of plastic stuck to her ceiling, every pattern. They were all for her. 

And she didn't regret it either.

Her hands shook, fingers fumbling with her phone to type out a response to Cullen before she realized she was backing out of her room with every backspace and pause. She crossed the living room, her flats slipping off her feet and heart pounding wildly with each step. She stopped at her front door, hand resting on the cool metal. The pads of each finger tap, tap, tapped against it, her breath labored as she rested her forehead against the wood.

She wanted to be brave, to ignore the crippling thoughts that poked and prodded in the back of her mind. As if worry could somehow be stripped. A layer of clothing shed, packed away, and forgotten. 

  
Frozen at the door, the taste of strawberries lingering on lips and widened smiles swirled in her mind. She liked the feel of Cullen’s hands-- every rough callous somehow softened against her cheek. His thumb covered up--no,  _ traced  _ her scar as if he wanted to memorize the jagged edges, or an act he may not get to do again. His laughter low in her ear, and her name soft on his lips-- always careful and sincere.

She wanted  _ more _ . Of that intimacy. Of the buzz that vibrated throughout her body with every touch, with the way he kissed her.

A trembling hand turned the knob as she forced herself to pull her forehead off the wood. No more mucking about. Clammy fingers threw the door open only to be met with Cullen staring back at her, his eyes wide. 

“Gwyn.” Heat rose to his cheeks as he lifted a hand to his neck, fingers massaging the skin until he pulled his phone from his pocket. He rocked on his heels. “I meant to call or text before I came over. I did. I hope I don’t seem too foolish, but I wanted to--”

“I’m sorry.” 

Cullen swallowed, his eyes falling to the floor. “Forgive me. If I’ve been too forward--”

“No! That’s not what I...I don’t...Mariana said things and then the stars...” Gwyn reached for his arm before allowing her fingers to slide down towards his hand. Caution filled each movement as her fingers held his palm-- a tentative dance over whether or not to weave her fingers with his. Tears threatened to already spill, so she closed her eyes, letting out a slow breath before her own gaze fell to her feet. “Ho-how do you feel?”

He stiffened at Mariana’s name, enough to make Gwyn’s eyes flit towards his. Her thumb brushed his palm before he squeezed her hand back, his free hand moving to her cheek. He pulled away momentarily, and Gwyn wasn’t sure if it was out of nerves or because he didn’t feel the same way. It wasn’t until he lifted her chin, brows furrowing as he searched her face, that tears streamed down her face. “What did she say to you?”

“I should be asking you that,” Gwyn murmured.

“Always worrying about me.” The corner of his lips rose before he shook his head. “It was nothing I haven’t heard or told myself in the past.”

“It doesn’t make it okay.” She sucked in a breath as she wove her fingers with his and sighed at another squeeze of his hand. “I think you can let me worry about you a little.”

“Yes, well…” He grew quiet for a moment, his body relaxing as his thumb wiped away a tear. “I feel fine, but I’m much more concerned about you, if that answers your question.”

It wasn’t all she meant when she’d asked. Did he know? Maker, of course he didn’t. Every thought that coursed through her mind was riddled with those “if’s” and “probably’s” that she could barely see past them. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if he left? No. He wouldn’t-- he gave her the stars, he kissed her back, and he said he didn’t regret it. But. There was that word.  _ But  _ what if she’d assumed far too much?

She searched for something to say, opening her mouth to begin one question after another only to falter. It wasn’t until she glanced back at her bedroom and eyed the soft glow coming from her ceiling. “The stars.”

Confusion etched on Cullen’s face, his throat dry. “Gwyn?”

The question fought to be asked, boiling from deep inside her until it bubbled to the surface. “Did you...wasityou?” She held her breath, longing for that piece of affirmation that she wasn’t reading into things. That this wasn’t too much to wish for. It dangled there on that edge, that daunting precipice where the two of them were constantly orbiting one another and destined to collide. That place where hope and agony met.

The tips of Cullen’s ears reddened as he nodded. “I saw them and thought you’d appreciate them. Your own piece of the sky.” He looked away, his free hand flying back to his neck. “Was it too much? Should I not have--”

“I love it.”

“Really?” He spluttered, lifting his gaze back at her. His eyes flickered with surprise as the corners of his lips rose, and she nodded, wishing she wasn’t feeling  _ everything  _ with the look he gave her-- joy, relief, hope, worry, and fear.

“Everything was in its rightful place, but Fervenial was put right above my head.” She blinked hard, each word catching as tears streamed down her cheeks. “It’s my favorite.”

Cullen swallowed thickly, his voice cracking a little as his hand squeezed hers. “I know.”

“I don't know what to say. No one...no one’s done something like this for me before.” 

No one had really  _ listened _ . She closed her eyes once more, biting down on her lip at the questions still swarming her mind. She turned from him, torn between not wanting to see pity on his face and not wanting to let go of his hand. Not wanting to let go of the idea of more between them. Instead she led him into her room, her eyes clinging to the stars there as if they were bits of reason and logic to outshine her overwrought fears.

“Gwyn?” She faced him, allowing his thumb to trace her scar while worried eyes studied her.  _ Ask him. Six words. Just ask him. Be brave like you were in the gazebo.  _

“Ho-how do you feel...about  _ me _ ?” Every nerve in her body screamed for her to turn away again. To run. To apologize for even asking. Maker, for even holding his hand when he might have wanted to let go for ages now. Cullen’s jaw was set, and Gwyn’s heart almost sank to the carpet floor.  _ Say something _ , she begged. 

Cullen ran his fingers through her hair, the expression on his face unreadable to Gwyn the longer she looked. Fear? Her heart pounded as he curled loose strands of brown behind the shell of her ear and she felt as if waves of electricity were binding her to this very spot. Frozen in time and place, Gwyn searched Cullen’s face. He swallowed, the sound audible as his eyes refused to leave hers.

“I have come to care about you a great deal.” His voice was hoarse, his thumb moving down the line of her jaw and settling on her chin. “Our friendship is and has been of the greatest importance to me, and I wouldn’t want to sacrifice for anything. That’s the absolute truth. But I…I would be a poor liar if I said I hadn’t considered more.”

Gwyn couldn’t quite process the words, but she blinked, leaning further into his touch. “O-oh.”

“If I was truly honest, I...well, I would tell you that I think of little else than you and your happiness,” he admitted, his voice low. A shade of red began to tinge his cheeks, and Gwyn could feel the soft  _ thuds  _ of his pulse quickening along with hers just underneath her fingertips. How long had he felt this way?

“So when I told you to kiss me, how...how long-” She shook the thought away. It was too presumptuous. Too fairy tale. Too... _ impossible.  _

Yet a broad smile filled his face, the scar near his lip wrinkling as he blushed further. “Far longer than I care to admit. There were-Maker- so many moments where I should have told you, where I  _ wanted  _ to tell you-”

Without warning, Gwyn let go of his hand and grabbed at the collar of his shirt, pulling him down until her nose collided with his chin. He hissed, sucking in a breath as Gwyn groaned at the contact. 

“Fuck!” 

“Are you alright?” Cullen asked, quick to inspect Gwyn’s nose before wrapping his arms around her. He cupped the back of her head, nestling her underneath his chin.   


“Fine,” Gwyn said, the word muffled against his chest. Of course she'd bugger it up. He chuckled, the sound a low rumble in his chest before she felt him kiss her head.

“Do you believe cursing after we kiss will become a habit of yours or will it just be these first ones?” His words were quiet, each one careful with a hint of a smile she imagined was hiding in the corner of his lips. She looked up at him, wanting to lose herself in the crooked closed-lip smirk, if it were somehow possible. 

A habit. The word took her by surprise the more she repeated it to herself. It was the implication behind it, and the overwhelming shroud of  _ more  _ that loomed in each letter. She grew quiet, her fingers fidgeting with the material of his shirt as she imagined the possibility of that future-- _ their  _ future. Whatever it would be. But for this brief moment, she didn’t want to drown in the unknown variables. Just Cullen. 

“I’ll try not to make the cursing a habit,” she said, her voice low. 

“Yes, well. I don’t mind too terribly as long the possibility of future kisses still exists.” One of his hands cupped her neck, his thumb gently running over her jawline, while the other moved to her waist. He moved closer, tilting her chin as his forehead pressed against hers. She wanted to swim in his eyes with the way that the plastic stars glowed in them. She stared at his lips, watching as he let out a breath and wondering if he still tasted of strawberries all these hours later.“I want to...if  _ you  _ want to...I’d very much like to kiss you again.”

She nodded twice, wondering if it was too eager,  _ too much _ , and swallowed the lump forming in her throat. Her fingers wound in the material of his shirt as she moved closer, her knees trembling. “I...I’m still here."

“So you are.” His nose brushed against her own, nuzzling it for a moment until finally closing the space between their lips. The kiss was warm and soft at first, tender and careful until he deepened it, allowing it to become more insistent as his fingertips disappeared in the soft curls of her hair. She smiled against his mouth, bursting at the seams with joy and deep satisfaction when the tip of her tongue swiped against his bottom lip in an act of boldness and she swore he let out a soft groan. 

But she was wrong-- he didn’t just taste like strawberries. The juices lingered there, yes. Slightly sweet to the point of wanting more, of falling in love with the taste and and being sucked in by the smell. But the longer he kissed her back, she was tasting something cosmic.

There had always been constellations dancing in his eyes when she least expected it. Like when he concentrated during a chess game, hands propped under his chin and his brows furrowing until a smirk formed on his lips. His eyes would rise to meet hers and, in the softness of that gold, they flickered. It was a cluster of stars burning, and holding her attention in the simplest of ways, but-Maker- she swore she felt them on his tongue the very second it touched hers. Warm and incandescent. 

Cullen tasted of rays of light, incredible and bright. More than that, he had her seeing stars every second his mouth remained on hers. They pierced through the darkness behind her lids, glowing brighter and brighter as a soft moan escaped her lips. Embarrassment prickled there at the back of her mind, along with the idea that this-- him, the  _ wanting _ , the  _ more _ \-- could end all too easily. She pushed the thoughts back, envisioning them dimming one by one, and pulled him closer. One of her hands traveled up the span of Cullen’s shirt to rest at the back of his neck, her fingers burying themselves in his hair just as she’d done hours ago at the gazebo.

_ Stay _ , she wanted to whisper when she finally forced herself to break the kiss.  _ Just stay. Please.  _ But the words remained caught in the back of her throat, her lips tingling slightly as Cullen pressed a kiss to her cheek. 

“There is something I need to tell you,” he said, his voice low. She could feel him smile against her cheek, the corner of his lips curling upwards until he pressed another kiss there. It was quick, but she pulled away after to meet his gaze. There, underneath the sky he’d created for her, he was staring directly at her.    


“Wh-what’s that?” Her eyelids fluttered, frantic to capture this moment somehow. She wanted to paint every detail from the way the point of Judex lit up the gold flecks of his eyes to how the hair her fingers were buried in were small, soft curls. She wanted to remember that Cullen tasted of bright and star-filled skies. His tongue was of a certain kind of heat and things unknown, and for the first time she wanted nothing more than to dive into that. 

“That I...I believe you owe me a pint of ice cream.” He studied her, a smile hidden in the corner of his lips before they brushed against hers once more. It was much too brief for either of their liking, but Gwyn still tasted him all the same.

A corner of their universe...and a hint of strawberries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *waves*  
> FINALLY. RIGHT???? 
> 
> It's been awhile, hasn't it?
> 
> I just wanted to apologize for the lack of an update. There's a been a lot of things going on in my life that I've been dealing with and a lot of personal changes I've been slowly working through. One thing after another kept getting in my way, whether it was depression, school, moving back to the US from Japan, or just other personal things that has had me taking a step back from fandom and such in general to work on myself.
> 
> Anyway, regardless, I was personally touched by some of the comments left on here and I truly appreciated them more than I can possible convey. They inspired me to pick this chapter back up and peck away at it some more. I am beyond grateful for all of your kind words. Seriously. I came back to them any time I was struggling these last couple days as I've worked on this chapter. Thank you guys so, so much for sticking around for it, and I hope you enjoy it! <3
> 
> Oh. Before I forget...I recently switched blogs on tumblr. I'm now at [grey-wardened](http://www.grey-wardened.tumblr.com) in case you wanted to see art from the fic or to simply say hi.  
> (forewarning: I'll be _slowly_ coming back from a hiatus on there, and may not answer right away. But please know I appreciate your words nonetheless!  <3)


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